


Before the Veela Breaks You

by Lostinthenightrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Draco Malfoy, Creature Fic, Eventual Smut, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger Has PTSD, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley Bashing, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates, fighting fate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25695058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinthenightrain/pseuds/Lostinthenightrain
Summary: A year since the war and nothing is the same. Draco Malfoy finds himself fighting a beast within him - awakened after the war. His heritage coming alive and wanting the one thing he cannot have - a muggle born Witch who has every reason to hate him for all eternity. Not that he wants her... but she may be his only saving grace in the darkness.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 190
Kudos: 612





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One -

May 1st, 1999

Hermione shut the door with a quiet thud. Turning the open sign around to face her and locking the door. The cold metal clicked in place as she rested her head against the wooden frame of the door. Letting one deep breath out before she went back into the store. The quiet that echoed around her little shop started to soothe the chaos that was raging around in her chest. Pushing past the rows and rows of books – academic requirements for students in attendance at Hogwarts, ancient tomes, potion books, arithmancy and even the occasional divination book, though part of her soul cringed just having it in her little store – she made herself comfy at the front counter.

Her day had been packed, especially by those looking to meet the "Brightest Witch of Her Age" rather than actually look about her quaint little store for a book. She had opened a few months after the fall of the Dark Lord. She had quickly passed her N.E.W.T's and rather than follow the other part of the Golden Trio by joining the Auror department, she decided to use the small amount of money left to her from selling her parents dental practice and the small reward given to her by the Ministry to open up a bookstore. It had shocked the community to the core when she declined a position in the Ministry but upon reflection, Hermione realized that she no longer wanted part in the politics that had ignored the rise of Voldemort. While Kingsley Shacklebolt had promised that there would be a change, she quickly understood only so much that could change in a short amount of time and she was not sure she could handle more chaos. Her childhood had been chaotic enough. Peace and quiet sounded good after the death and destruction that had left her standing hazardously in its wake. It had shaken her to her core, and she was not certain that she could fight anymore battles without losing what little was left of her soul. She knew tomorrow would bring on more heartache as it was the first anniversary since the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter, her loyal, brave best friend would be thrust upon the Ministry spotlight again at the Ministry Gala to raise money for restorations to Hogwarts and many places that had been infected by the touch of Death Eaters. Ron Weasley would be there to help take some of the limelight, and she knew that her presence was demanded but a hollow feeling in her gut made her want to take a Sleeping Draught so she would not have to remember tomorrow at all. Just bypass it all together with no memories to relive. No flash backs to bring her back to the nightmares that haunted her the moment her eyes closed. Not the deaths of all the loved ones that had been lost to the darkness. Not the terror of those who had to face down the Dark Wizards and Death Eaters. Not remember how one word was embedded in her skin for the rest of time because of her blood or see the face of the psychotic witch that had done it to her. Remembering her own screams that had echoed off the stone Floor.

No, the war may be over, but the aftershocks were still shaking the wizarding world to the core. And it was her duty to attend the Gala to celebrate their victories and show the Wizarding world that it was okay now – even when she did not feel the same. It was her duty to help take some of the burden off Harry and Ron, because that was what she had always done. Eight years and she still could not say "no" to the two boys – or rather, men now – who had survived a war by her side.

Making sure that her store was neat and tidy, clean and dust free, new books on shelves, and books left on coffee tables were sufficiently put in their proper place, she decided it was time to go home. Grabbing her bag from her tiny hole in the wall office, she walked back to the storeroom while placing her coat over her shoulders. One deep breath and she felt the familiar tug of apparition.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that it was well past dusk, and she was behind the building she called home in the familiar alleyway. Glancing about to make sure no one saw her; she quickly made her way inside to get out of the chilly wind encasing the night. A few flights of stairs, down a hallway, a quick "Alohomora" and she was inside her safe haven. Stepping into the small living room, she flicked her wrist, a little nonverbal spell casting, and the lights turned on to welcome her home. Crookshanks was curled up on her favorite reading chair over by the window. Her guess would be that he had tried to soak up what little sunshine had peeked through the storm clouds earlier in the afternoon.

Her little kitchen was off to the right, and down the hall from there she had her bedroom, bathroom, and a secondary bedroom which she used as her office and library. With a small extension charm (one of which the Ministry was not made aware), the office easily fit all of her books and had space enough for a large desk and chaise for when she felt like snuggling down for the evening with a good book.

Her bedroom was simple – a large bed with too many pillows and fluffy down comforter to drown in, a small closet and a dresser, a nightstand which held many finished books and a lamp for reading. The colors were all neutral tones making it nice and cozy. Relaxing which was all she ever wanted. The bathroom held a walk-in shower, a small sink, and a toilet but that was about it. Nothing worth noting, nothing worth getting excited over.

Harry and Ron had worried when she had told them that she had purchased a small flat inside of Muggle London, but she had brushed them off with a smile. Ron had taken it at face value, but Harry took a little more convincing. It did, however, shock her when she had to explain to Harry her choice in staying rooted in Muggle London. If anyone would understand, she had thought her Muggle raised best friend would. He had worried about her being far away from her friends and family, but that did not sway her. She had stuck to her gut and now here she was living the dream. Her own business. Her own place. She saw her friends at least once a week – if not more. Some days it was nice to be around familiar faces and other days it was suffocating. It was hard for her to explain to her two best friends that while she loved them dearly, she needed quiet more than the loud arguments that came with having them around. Mostly banter between the two, and sometimes Ginny who had become a permanent fixture in Harry's life.

Just as she was sitting down for a late-night dinner, her Floo roared to life and she was soon looking into the flames to see the image of her glasses-wearing friend.

"Hermione!"

"Hello Harry," she greeted as she went to sit on the Floor before the fireplace. "Isn't it a little late for you to be awake?"

A wry smile on the image before her, "I just wanted to make sure you will be attending the Gala tomorrow. I..." he hesitated. "I'm not sure I can do this without you and Ron there."

"Oh, Harry, you know we will both be there for you. I'm not about to feed you to the wolves," she teased.

"I know – I just wasn't sure how you'd feel about being in the same room as …" Harry trailed off again.

Hermione brushed her hair from her face, hesitating. While she loved Harry dearly, and wished only to be honest, she also knew that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. So, plastering a fake smile, she replied cheerily, "Ron and I will be just fine. Harry, you don't need to worry about us. Let's all just put the past behind us and move forward." She felt a pang in her heart as she saw the relief sweep over his face.

"Okay, okay. Good. I'll see you at the Gala? Or did you want to meet up with us at the Burrow?" he wondered as he glanced over his shoulder. She assumed looking at someone else, but she was not sure.

"I have a few things to do before, so I'll just meet up with you at the Gala. Goodnight, Harry," she waved and quickly backed up and shut off the Floo. Sitting back on her heels, she rubbed at her tired eyes and took another deep breath. Tomorrow could not be over soon enough, she thought to herself as she struggled back over to her untouched dinner. Appetite now gone, she took the untouched plate and placed it in the sink before dragging her tired feet down the hallway to her dark bedroom.

She quickly stripped from her robes, changing into a pajama set of shorts and a loose t-shirt with her parent's dental practice logo on the front. Worn from years of use, it was the comfiest thing she owned. Crawling under the covers, she grabbed her wand and placed a quick silencing spell on the room before setting it under the pillow next to her. On the nightstand next to her, she popped the cork of the Dreamless Sleeping Draught and chugged it quickly before passing out to exhaustion.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat in front of the fire that resided in the library of the Malfoy Manor. A glass of Firewhiskey dangled from his fingertips as he stared long into the flames. His shoulders were tense from his long argument with his mother, Narcissa, who had vacated the library only an hour earlier. His self-isolation was soon coming to an end and not by his choice. He took a swig of the burning liquid. Grimacing as it went down, he contemplated throwing the glass into the flames or against the wall, but his father's voice itched at the back of his mind.

"Malfoys do not throw temper tantrums." Malfoys did not do a lot of things – or rather, they did not do a lot of things right. His father had led the family down a dark path and left the rubble behind to Draco and Narcissa to clean up. While he rotted in prison, a place he rightly belonged, Draco was left dealing with the fall of his family's name and empire, his mother's depression, and his own triggers that came after the war. He still could see the Dark Lord's snake swallowing someone whole every time he closed his eyes. His nightmares included some of the hellish ordeals he had been forced to watch with other Death Eaters – including his father.

Sighing heavily, he pushed himself up off the sofa and went over to the cart of alcohol and poured himself another drink thinking back over his mother's request, nay, demand. She had come in not long after dinner and requested that he take her to the Ministry Gala tomorrow evening – the very eve of the fall of Lord Voldemort. Her request to enter the lion's den quite literally. He had denied her at first. No one would welcome their presence so why was it worth attending.

"Draco, it is time the Malfoy name makes a comeback. It's time we make the Malfoy name something better than it was before." She had gently rested her hand against his face. "We cannot hide any longer."

He wanted to spit fire at her, but the sad look in her eyes had gave way to a little fire. It had been an age since he had seen that fire. If he was being honest, he had thought that perhaps his father and his decisions for the family by joining Voldemort had diminished that fire long ago. No one in this world mattered to him anymore, other than Narcissa. For his mother, he had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. For his mother, he took on the task of killing Dumbledore – though by some mercy he had failed. For his mother, he stood behind the Dark Lord despite his misgivings on what was happening.

For his mother, he would attend the Ministry function. He would donate a feasible amount of money from the Malfoy vault and he would deal with the sneers and whispers for one night. For one night, he would dress in pure blood proper attire, attend a Gala, and make his mother happy before he went back to the Manor where he would hide once more with his potions and books, quiet whispers in the dark.

Slamming back the last of his drink, he dragged himself out of the library up the stairs to his room. Not bothering with a light, he stripped down to his boxers before falling flat faced into the pillows on his bed before sleep overtook him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two -**

_May 2nd, 1999_

Hermione closed the store a couple hours early. She knew it would take a few extra spells to get her unmanageable hair under control and look presentable for the Gala. Sighing heavily, she made her way home contemplating a drink or two for her nerves. Part of her wished she had said yes to going to the Burrow to get ready so she'd have the hustle and bustle of people running around to keep her from her own thoughts but she wasn't sure she could be in the same house as the Weasleys and their looks of pity. She was not sure she could handle the remarked that Ron may pass through his chapped lips or his holier than thou personality.

So here she was, pulling her dress out of her closet talking to Crookshanks as she had light Jazz music playing in her bedroom. Humming the tune, she went about getting her hair into some semblance of order from frizzy and out of control, to tamed messy curls that cascaded down her back. Not much had changed in her appearance as she looked into the mirror, but she noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Using a little extra make up to hide the dark circles, she went about putting on a face for the Gala. Natural looking makeup – just enough to hide the blemishes and dark circles, with a splash of flare around her eyes. Luckily, her naturally dark eye lashes were long and added a little to the flare. Glancing once more in the mirror, she gave herself a once over before pushing herself back to the bedroom where she had laid out her dress on the bed.

A dark navy Grecian style dress. Gently, she stripped down to her underwear, forgoing a bra – mostly because the dress would not allow for one and because it was not like she had much to show- she slipped inside the soft material. The material flowed down around her with two pieces of fabric rested gently over her breasts covering her enough that she would not feel over exposed. Corded rope helped to hold the dress around her hips and trail down one thigh. Her back, however, was exposed for all the world to see. She had hesitated at first because of this but the shop owner had insisted this was meant for her with her golden tanned skin – from many days on an Australian beach front property. Once a month, she would travel to that beach front property and spend a weekend basking in the sunshine. It did wonders for her mood and her health.

Spinning once in a circle for her orange furball to admire behind closed eyelids, she grabbed her wand and slipped it between some of the loose folds of her dress where a holster had been placed and she made her way over to the Floo. "Wish me luck," she whispered to her familiar before throwing the powder down and announcing her destination.

* * *

As she walked out of the Floo, whispering a charm to remove the ash and dust from her form, she walked with many others just coming from the Floo as well. They were ushered down a hallway to the giant ballroom that had been decorated to perfection. Silvers and whites and golds spun around beautifully with magic giving a glow from the ceiling. A faint smile graced her lips as she saw that the ceiling reflected the starry night sky reminding her of the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

Taking a glass of water from a house elf that walked by, she let her gaze drift over the crowd as she found herself a tall table to stand at. Thanking her senses for adding a cushioning charm to her heels since she could not find a table with seating. As her eyes roamed over many familiar faces and some new, she finally spotted two dots of orange hair and a dark hair beelining their way toward her. She pulled the corner of her lip up as she noticed Ginny dragging Harry and Ron toward her. She could say that she was, somewhat, friends with the redheaded feline, but she would also admit that she was not the biggest fan of the only female Weasley sibling. Ginny was brash and blunt, and sometimes overzealous in her achievements forgetting about those around her – namely Harry and his struggles since the war. Harry and Ginny had become an official couple since the end of the war and, while Harry desired to make a life for himself to raise a family, something he had longed for all his life, Ginny's unwillingness to settle down and "become her mother" was starting to rub Hermione raw. The younger Weasleys definitely shared the need for limelight. Ron, the ever-trusted side kick, and Ginny, the girlfriend of The Boy Who Lived.

"'Mione," a heavy hand rested on her bare arm bringing her out of her reverie as she looked into blue eyes. Ron Weasley – a short term boyfriend and a longtime best friend – had not changed. His smile too wide for his face. Blue eyes that sparkled with trouble. A tall framed body that sometimes had a mind of its own.

"Hello Ron," she greeted before turning to greet Harry and Ginny. "Hello you two. Are you prepared for tonight?" Her smile was wide and hurt her teeth, but she knew if she did not keep it up the shell would soon crack, and she would not make it through the night. She needed to make it through the night. For Harry. For those that were lost.

"I'll be glad when it's over," remarked Harry as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before looking around.

"Oh, but the whole family came out tonight! And we can dance, Harry! Please!" Ginny exclaimed. Her dress, gold in color, brought out the warmth in her brown eyes and the orange in her hair, making her shine like a beacon but to Hermione, it made her wish she was wearing a pair of sunglasses to keep the light from her eyes. But the smile stayed up. Cannot stop. No slipping up.

"You look amazing, 'Mione," Ron said placing his hand on the small of her back. She jumped back from his touch and whispered a quick excuse before making her way toward the bar. A drink was needed to keep her nerves about her she decided as she felt the ghost of his touch crawl up her spine. Her mind racing a mile a minute, she barely noticed people as she made her way to the bar. Some may have called her name, but she could only raise a hand in a gentle wave. She needed something to calm her before she melted down in the middle of the Ministry. That would make headline news and Rita Skeeter would delight in a chance to write a scathing story about the Golden Girl whose cracks were beginning to show.

Bumping into someone just a few feet before the bar, she quickly reached out to keep from falling. An apology dangling from her lips as she looked into bright, familiar, cold silver eyes.

"Granger."

* * *

Draco Malfoy took the Elven wine and the Firewhisky from the barkeep and turned around to go in search of his mother. Just as he turned, he watched as a familiar face came walking into him. Luckily, he was able to keep both drinks from spilling on the witch when she reached out to steady herself against his chest. A jolt raced down his spine and he felt his vision blur for a split second but shaking it off he glanced down at the witch.

"Granger." Her eyes widened as she took in his appearance. A small smirk graced his lips before turning and going in search of his mother. He could not shake the feeling that had overtaken him seconds before when she had touched him. The echoes of that jolt still ricocheted down his spine with each step toward his mother who was standing with a few members of the Ministry wives. Her delicate blue wizarding robes looking fancy amongst those around her. Despite their less-than clean standing with the Wizarding world, money still bought opinions. Malfoy money was able to still purchase the best of the best and despite everything – Narcissa Malfoy was able to get exactly what she wanted with enough purse strings.

"Mother," he interrupted as he turned to hand her the wine goblet just as his eyes took into the form of Hermione Granger sipping from a whiskey glass quite quickly as the ginger haired git came roaring up to her. Tilting his head, he watched as she attempted to shake his hand off her, but it did nothing to stop him from dragging her out into the hallway. Just as she glanced back her eyes met that of Draco's and his heart came to a complete stop and fear set into his bones. No.

Before he realized what he was doing, his feet were leading him after the duo. Narcissa calling after him landed on deaf ears. He did not have to walk far before he heard Weasel yelling in a rage. Rounding a corner, he watched as Weasley had Hermione back into a corner and was talking to her in a loud, angry voice. Not quite close enough to make out the words, he quickly cast a silencing spell on the area as he moved forward. An afterthought, he placed a disillusionment spell to keep people passing by from noticing their presence.

"Weasel," his voice rang out clear and calm as he leaned against the wall not fifteen feet from the pair. His eyes not on the red haired man before him, but on the teary eyes witch behind him.

"Malfoy." He spoke through clenched teeth before turning his body fully toward him and whipped out his wand. "Get out of here, Malfoy. Nobody wants you here, Death Eater scum."

A shrug and he was pushing off the wall and walking closer. His eyes never leaving Hermione's as his heart raced. "Granger doesn't seem to want your company either. So why don't we both leave and then everyone's happy?" Draco could not even believe his own ears, so he was not shocked by Weasley's shocked expression – eyes wide and mouth hanging open quite unattractively. His eyes off Hermione, he felt his blood pressure skyrocketing but unable to understand the reasoning behind it, he pushed it off. "Leave her be, Weasley, or I'll go get Potter."

Draco watched the hesitation in the redhead's face before he was getting pushed against the wall as Weasley passed by in a huff. Glancing behind him, he watched Weasley stalk down the hall and turn the corner. Turning to glance back at the familiar witch, he came face to face with golden honey eyes.

"Thank you for that, Malfoy." She reached her hand out to touch his and followed the redhead out. Draco stayed rooted to the spot. His entire body quaking and his eyes losing vision. Glancing down at his hands, he noticed them trembling. Something was terribly wrong with him. Was he falling ill? Did someone poison him? Did the Mudblood infect him with her touch? Glancing about to make sure there were no onlookers, he quickly made his way to the Floo before he shouted, "Malfoy Manor".

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. I hadn't realized that two weeks flew by without an update! I'll be posting two extra chapters as an apology!  
> Thank you all for who are following and commenting!
> 
> I hope this keeps you hooked - I want to let everyone know that I am about four chapters in and have NO CLUE where it is going but I'm excited. I hope you are enjoying :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three -**

_June 23rd, 1999_

Draco Malfoy sat in his library scouring books as he felt his body fighting against him. It had taken a few weeks to figure out what had quickly taken over his body that night at the Gala. He had researched poisons, dark spells, ancient curses before he had come across a long-forgotten book taken from the Black library when his mother had married his father. It had been written in Latin, so it had taken a while for Draco to translate it but once he had, the shock of what really was transpiring left him in a daze for days. He had passed his birthday with barely a thought on turning another year older.

His thoughts spun and spun him into a tailspin that left him holed up in his bedroom for days. Either overthinking everything he had discovered or drinking in an attempt to forget everything he had learned. Unfortunately, nothing came from either attempt other than raging headaches.

Finally, one morning he woke with a decision in his mind. He had to speak with someone and that someone happened to live under the same roof and could answer the questions roaming around in his mind. Someone who knew the Black family history. A Black themselves; or rather, herself.

It was not hard to locate her. Her time was usually spent in the gardens these days. She preferred not to stay within the dark halls of the Manor but rather out in the sunshine. She had always been fond of keeping up the garden. Flowers and plants brought new life; she always would murmur to him when they would play outside when he was younger. Those days had long since passed for him, but she still found the time to wander outside. So, it was no surprise when he found her sitting at the garden patio drinking her afternoon tea. Probably a Jasmine tea with a splash of milk and honey. The sun was not out, so the shade was a welcome distraction from the blazing heat of summer. It may be only June, but Draco had felt over heated for the last few weeks. Taking a seat across from her, he leaned forward placing his chin in his hand and gazed at her.

"Hello, Draco Darling," she greeted. Her eyebrow raising delicately as she met her son's stare.

He greeted her as his eyes went out to the landscape around them. "Hello, Mother."

"What brings you out of your cave?" She wondered as she sipped from her cup. Draco tilted his head, raising an eyebrow over his eye. "Oh, please, son. You have been hiding. I've hardly seen you – you've asked the house elves to bring in your meals. I've seen your 'ghostly' form flitter between your room and the library." She set her cup down dropping her hands gently in her lap. She watched his eyes flitter down and his jaw grit. His eyes were sunken in, darkness framed his eyes and he was gaunt. But at the same time, she saw that his muscles were filling themselves out. A question was rising in her, but then her heart stopped when she heard him.

"What do you know about Veela, Mother?"

"Veela?"

He watched as she raised a hand to her chest and her eyes blown wide. Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward – he could not be delicate about this when he was pretty sure it was starting to affect his health. "Mother, I know Veela runs in your blood line and I want to know about it." He paused. "Please."

"Draco, is there a reason why..." He watched as she took in his form. Her eyes grew even more as she noticed his eyes. While they were normally gray had started taking on a more silver hue – a trait from what he had read associated with the Veela gene. "Oh darling..." Her hand dropped down into her lap; he was sure wringing the other. "I did not think it was possible for our family to carry it anymore. It hasn't appeared in..."

"Two centuries give or take a few years." He answered as he pulled out the book he had located in the library. Placing it in front of her, next to her tea, he glanced up at her. Blinking, she reached out with a delicate touch and brushed the faded leather cover.

"I don't know much other than what my father told me as a child..." She glanced up with tears in her eyes. "I'm not sure what is truth and what is fiction. But I will try my best to tell you everything I know." She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. When she opened her eyes again to reveal her dark irises, the tears were pushed back and the resilience he had not seen in a long time was shining bright. "The Veela trait comes from my side of the family. It dates back from when our family lived in France. It would appear every generation but as time went on, it slimmed to every other generation, and then fewer and farther because the Blacks started to see it as a taint in the bloodline. Being a Veela did not make you a pureblood in their eyes. I remember one specific story..." She paused. "Father told me that the last Veela in the family was a sibling of his grandfather... I can't remember his name, but he started showing the trait. He was getting stronger without having to do anything. His eyesight was sharpening, and he could smell for miles away. Women would turn their heads when he would pass and fawn all over him.

"But not long after his change, he ran into a girl from the village..." She hesitated as she glanced over at her son. "You have to understand – the family truly felt that they needed to keep the bloodline pure. They had no idea what would pass when..."

"When what, mother?" He felt his stomach tighten at her tone.

"The village girl was a half blood – nothing of social standing but this brother… He was obsessed. No other woman was worth his time. He started obsessing. He wouldn't stop talking about her or attempting to go see her. When his father forbade the marriage, he snuck out to see her. And when that was discovered they threw him in the cell in their castle. He tried to claw his way out... he wasted away within a few days of his next birthday. They had no idea that she was his mate – that Veela have mates. It had been forgotten over time and some Veela never find their mates! They just marry and accept the love of the woman they were betrothed to at the time. You see it's even more rare for a Veela to find their mate."

Draco put his head in his hands. "He died?" He did not have to see her nod. He knew the answer.

"Darling, you don't have to worry..." 

He laughed, his voice without humor. "Mother, I wish that were true for both our sakes."

"No," the horror in her voice was at the forefront of his mind. He visibly shuddered. Silence enveloped the two like a suffocating wrap.

* * *

Draco went down for dinner per his Narcissa's request via the elf. His body felt sluggish, but he did his best to hide it as he made his way down the stairs. His mind was working into overload with all the thoughts blasting inside his skull. Without a doubt, he knew what was happening to him was not just an illness. He felt the lurking monster under his skin – even woke to it after a nightmare. Claws where fingers used to be had dug themselves into his mattress. Canines where his human teeth had once been had probably been the root of his fear upon waking. It had taken a while for both to turn back to normal – long after his heart had stopped thumping in his heart. Fear had resided in his mind for far longer than he had liked.

He walked into the dining room, finding his mother still seated to the right of the head of the table. While he knew that she wanted him to sit at the head of the table – a place for the head of the Malfoy family. Now his title, he still chose to sit across from her, left of the head of the table.

It was quiet as the house elves brought out their meal. Neither son nor mother said a word until dessert was placed before them. While he ate the lemon cake, Narcissa sat with her eyes on him. Watching him as if he were a stranger before her.

"I'm going to find some more literature on your condition..." He flinched. "I mean no insult, Draco. I just want to help you. You are wasting away, and I want to know what we can do to help this!"

"Mother, I hate to tell you this – but we know what it is. I've found my mate and I... it would not be wise to bring her into this."

"You found her?" She took her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. "Who is she?"

"She is of no importance. It cannot happen." He grimaced. He could not stomach eating any more. "She's a muggle-born. She would not be welcomed in this family."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you cannot give up. Your father is not coming back and obviously if the war has taught me anything it is that the status of one's blood means NOTHING!" His eyes shot up to stare at the woman before him. His mother. He watched as the anger was visibly reined in as she attempted to control her show of emotion. Emotions were weapons that could be used against someone. At least that is how his mother had been raised, so to see her showing emotion had been shocking. "If this is the woman that can make you happy and help you than she will be welcomed inside this house."

He scoffed. "Hermione Granger would rather die than enter these walls again." He should have known better than to spit it out like that, but his regret came tenfold when he watched his mother faint right out of the chair before him.

* * *


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four -**

July 1st, 1999 

Hermione sat on a stool behind the front counter. Today had been an oddly quiet day for the bookstore; there weren’t hordes of people coming in and gawking at her. A few stragglers had meandered around the store, and checked out with a book or three in their arms by the time they left. Her favorite part of working in a bookstore was when a customer would come up looking for a recommendation. Hermione would ask a few questions (What genre? Long or short? Hardcover or  softcover ? Fiction or nonfiction?) and she’d go in search of the perfect book for the client. It was like setting a couple up – just the right fit. More often than not, the customers would come back and sing praises of the book she had recommended. It warmed her heart. 

With the quiet came some time for her to pick up a book as well. Needing some stability, she had pulled out her very well-loved copy of Hogwarts: A History. The words came to life as she dived deeper into the book. Soon enough, the outside world became a background to the lives that popped out from the pages in front of her. The pages were so well loved that they were soft against her fingertips and she didn’t have to worry about paper cuts anymore. When she had first received this copy, she had cut her fingers more often than not in her haste to turn a page and read the words printed on the paper. 

The founding members became welcome friends as she would read about their lives and how they came to open the school together. She could almost recite word for word what was printed about their lives – Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin – constant companions in her ever-changing life. In a world that was brand new, where she had hoped no longer to be an outcast, only to be shunned for a blood trait that she had no choice in the matter. Because she hadn’t grown up in a world of magic, she had fought harder to earn her place, only to still be spit on because her parents weren’t magical beings. It had taken a long time before she had been able to accept what was and move forward. She knew her worth – no one could tell her otherwise, as she constantly reminded herself. 

Just as she was about to dive into the chapter about Salazar Slytherin, she heard the ping of her door’s bell announcing a visitor. Pushing herself off her stool, she folded her book closed and placed it on the back counter behind her. Turning around to greet the newcomer, her eyes were startled to see storm clouds staring right at her. She felt her stomach jump into her throat. 

“Malfoy,” she murmured. Feeling his stare touch parts of her soul, she couldn’t help but check that her sleeves were pulled down all the way. Clearing her throat, she pasted on a smile. “What can I help you find today?” 

He didn’t answer her at first. She watched as he seemed to assess her from head to midsection; what was available in his sight since her bottom half was hidden behind a counter. Not sure what he saw, but she could take a guess that he would notice her dark circles from her late nights, and how her body had thinned in the past year or two, not quite recovered from her time on the run. 

Finally, his eyes trailed back up and his mouth thinned. “I’m hoping you might have a book for what I’m looking for. I’ve checked Diagon Alleys’ stores, and they were useless to me.” 

“Okay...” She made her way around the counter. “I’m sure I’ve got something... Is it a special edition? A rare find? Because even if I don’t have it here, I can find someone who does.” 

He nodded slowly. “I need a book on rare magical creatures.” 

Hermione started her way to the back of the store, mentally cataloging all the books she had that could possibly be within his goals. “I might have something. But I know I can reach out to Luna Lovegood – uh, she was a Ravenclaw, and she knows some people. Are you looking for a specific magical creature?” She rounded a corner and stopped to pass her fingers across some spines before pulling a few books out. 

“Veela.” Taking a few books into her arms, she glanced up to see a stony expression written on the thin Slytherin’s face. He didn’t meet her eyes as she handed him a couple of older books. 

“These may have what you are looking for – let's take them up front and I will check for you.” She took the last few books she found and started combing through the top one as she walked blindly toward the front of the store. Not once looking up as her feet found their way through the narrow pathways between shelves. 

* * *

Draco Malfoy felt more human than he ever had the moment he walked into her store. He caught  sight of her leaning up against the front counter, with a book in front of her, no surprise there.. His body had been strained before he entered, and he had slowly felt like he was starting to lose his marbles. A need – an unspoken need – had taken control of him for the past week. Making him restless as he fought finding her. His mother had tried, despite her dramatic reaction, to get him to reach out the curly haired brunette . But of course, her argument had fallen on deaf ears as he fought against it. 

L ast night had been the wors t  he’d dealt with since the awakening of the Veela blood in him. He had woken to find himself half crawling out the window. In his sleep, his Veela was fighting to find her. In his sleep, his Veela wanted her and would stop at nothing. It had made him realize he had to do something before his Veela won his mind completely. 

The moment her eyes met his from over the counter, he had felt the Veela within him sigh with contentment. For once, his Veela calmed. He hadn’t lied when he said he had checked all the  bookstores in Diagon Alley to find more research on the beast within. He knew he needed to find out more about what was taking over his life, but finding out she had a bookstore of her own had helped cement his chance at contact with her. All morning he had attempted finding out what he could about her life – from what the prophet reported, he found she was single, owned this little store, and  led a pretty solitary life. He had been surprised when he found that her and the Weasel were not together. But his Veela was very happy not to have to fight someone for her. 

A sense of possessiveness had ripped through him like none other when he thought of Weasley touching her...  _ his mate _ . Those words were still a hard pill to swallow, even as he felt the contentment running through him. When he had taken in her appearance, the sunken eyes, the shallow color of skin and her thin frame, the possessiveness had hit him again. The Veela inside had wanted to immediately find food and give it to her. A weird concept for Draco to accept, since all his life he had  th ought about only what he could have, and what others could do for him. Now here he was.  W orrying about another – someone who had once been marked as his enemy. One he himself shamed and taunted through their school years. 

Guilt had begun to gnaw on him until she spoke, and it was like a fog had been lifted. All of these changes in his body, just by her presence and her voice, he started to catalogue in the back of his mind. Ever the researcher himself – second only to the tiny woman in front of him. Her hair, the mass of brown curls, were longer and cascading down her back in a mess of frizz with a mind of its own. Part of him wondered if it was its ’ own beast, and how she managed to deal with it without a headache. 

Despite being in a place unfamiliar to himself, he couldn’t stop watching her. The way her mind seemed to hone in on the one task that he had asked. How her fingers brushed against the spines as she searched for the items on her mind. It amazed him that all these little details seemed to beam at him after all these years. He never had noticed her before – he wasn’t going to make light of their history. He wouldn’t even pretend that he had loved her all along – when he still wasn’t sure what to do about their situation now. He wasn’t even sure he could get past their history, but if it was death or her, he’d at least attempt to get to know her better. 

One thing he would admit though, was that he didn’t give a damn about blood anymore. She was living proof that pureblood was nothing but a sham. Here she was, a muggle born, a child – nay a woman, who had not grown up with the knowledge of magic for a good majority of her life, and yet she was “the brightest witch of  her age”. She had bested him in every subject at school, despite his so-called superior birth. 

Then, when his aunt had tried to carve her up – no. H e couldn’t go there. He wasn’t ready to deal with that mess. His soul ached at the mere thought. His nightmares constantly played that on a loop, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to come out of it right now – the guilt would eat him alive. 

“Malfoy.” His head snapped up. He found her staring curiously at him from beneath dark lashes. Her eyes  hinted at mirth, but it was gone in a blink. “I think I found a little bit of information in this book.” She pushed the book forward. “But if you are wanting something more in depth, I’ll reach out to Lovegood and see what she can scrounge up for me. Or I can get you in touch with Fleur Delacour – um, she is the only Veela I know personally. Well she’s part Veela, anyway.” 

“I’ll wait for you to hear from Lovegood,” He murmured as he took the book into his hands. “What do I owe you?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved him off and was surprised to see a frown smearing his features. Taking a step back, she watched a dark shadow flicker over his face. 

He watched her hesitation, and seeing the worry in her eyes caused him to chastise himself fiercely. Growling, he turned around and walked away from her. He should not be the one causing her to be afraid, at least that is what the Veela in him was feeling, but the part of him that still clung to the old ways was wondering why he even cared. Taking a few calming breaths, he attempted to get the creature under his skin back to being a quiet presence lurking in the background rather than trying to take  control . 

“Malfoy, how about we settle the fee when I hear back from Luna?” He turned slowly, to see her leaning against the counter watching him with ever knowing eyes. Her body posture was loose and relaxed now. “Once I get a book in my hand with the knowledge you seek, then we settle the bill. Does that seem like a deal you feel comfortable with?” 

He furrowed his brow as he stared down at her. “That seems bad for business? What if I do not come back and you are left with eating the cost of this book right here?” He watched the surprise flicker over her face before her lips split open in a half smile. 

“I just have this hunch... that you’ll be back.” She reached behind her to pull out the book she had been reading previously. “I’ll reach out to you as soon as I hear something.” He was dismissed. He knew it, but that didn’t make him hesitate leaving. Watching her for a split second, he noticed that the book under her was the book he had first seen her with all those years ago as a first year. He supposed that some things never do change and for that thought, he was comforted. 

She heard the door shut behind her and felt her body loosen in relief. Words could not describe what had just happened. Malfoy had come into her book shop and had a civil conversation with her. He hadn’t snapped at her; he hadn’t called her mudblood, and had actually tried to argue with receiving a free book. She felt as if the world had been turned on its axis. Rubbing her temples, she felt a headache coming on. 

Going into the back room, she found a potion to help clear the pain throbbing in between her temples. Taking a minute for the potion to work, she thought back on the man that had just vacated her building. The Malfoy Heir had changed much from the last time she had seen him at the Gala, just two short months ago. His Malfoy hair was still the same shade as always, but loose, not slicked back as it used to be. His eyes were now a stormy gray.  Still tall, b ut he had filled out from the lanky boy that she had known for seven years. Nothing too crazy, but he had definitely come into his own. 

He had always been cocky during school, but now it was a quiet confidence. His whole aura was mellow now, instead of the chaos that had been swallowing him whole in sixth year. His skin was still pale, making her feel dark in comparison, though she knew the natural olive tone of her skin was fairly light in normal company. One thing she hadn’t remembered was the  storm-like  quality of his eyes. Yes, he’d been grey eyed since forever, but now they were silver in their ferocity. 

If anything were true in this day and age, it is that time was a constant, and with time came change – so perhaps the same could be said about Draco Malfoy. Hermione knew that time had definitely done a number on her, so how could time not do anything but change the once upon a time enemy of the Golden Trio? 

Hermione was thrown from her internal musing when she heard the bell announcing a visitor once more. Quickly pushing herself out of the back room, she went to the front counter, determined to finish her day without worry inkling at her mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another update for you :) Hopefully later this week, I'll be getting ANOTHER chapter updated. Got to catch you all up, right?  
> Let me know what you think! Thank you all for the support.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five -**

Draco felt the loss as soon as he apparated back to the  M anor. In the quiet of the study, he could feel a physical ache take over his body. It had helped being near her – it had taken the edge off, but he could still feel the distance. He could only describe it as a gentle tug reaching out toward her.  A few days ago, it was like he was being pulled toward that unseen force, and fighting it had caused a physical  exertion on his body. 

Rubbing a hand through his disheveled  hair , he groaned to himself. When had he become this weak bodied individual that felt a need for another person’s presence in order to feel  some  semblance of normalcy? He was a Malfoy for  Salazar’s sake. He shouldn’t depend on anything, or anyone. He couldn’t help the contradictions racing through his mind – while he didn’t particularly care for her or what she was doing to him (though  through no knowledge of her own), he couldn’t help but feel some relief that she would be able to help him find out more about his... condition, for lack of a better term. 

Worry ached at him though, as he started recollecting her appearance. He  hadn’t failed to notice that she pulled at her  sleeves – obviously the dynamic duo wasn’t aware of her failing health. No, someone would have to write it out for them before they saw what was right before their eyes, he thought to himself with disgust. He, to this day, did not see what Hermione saw in the two of them. If it had been him, he would have left their carcasses in the middle of nowhere a long time ago. A flicker of anger rubbed at him. One would think that after all this time, they could notice their friend getting skinnier and shallower with each passing day. 

But perhaps the bright witch hid it from them with a glamour spell or two. He could see that – always protecting the two of them. Even when it came to protecting them from themselves. It hadn’t gone unnoticed all the times that she had stepped in to save them when she could have left them to deal with the consequences. Again – why? Why did she put up with it when she could easily just walk away and not deal with the everyday headaches? 

Draco entered the dining room to find his mother already seated in her usual spot. Her hair pulled up from her face l et him see the color returning to her skin. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he walked through the open archway and he felt her gaze taking inventory of his appearance. She knew he was going in search of some information on his condition, but he failed to mention that he would be attempting to see his mate. She would have  just worried and offered unnecessary advice – a waste of breath falling on deaf ears at this point, if he was being honest. 

“Darling, you’re looking well,” he heard the question in her voice, but chose to ignore it as he sat across from her. He heard her call for the house elves as he placed the cloth napkin across his lap. “Was today a success?” 

He took a bite of the lamb that was placed before him by one of the kitchen elves. Glancing up at her, he nodded. “I have someone looking into some literature of the nature of Veelas for me. I should hear back soon.” 

“Well, that’s splendid.” Narcissa took a drink from her goblet – no doubt filled with elven wine. “I hope there is something that can help you until we figure out how best to handle the … well, how to deal with Hermione Granger.” 

Draco froze  mid bite as he felt a surge of rage drive up his spine. His eyes honed in on his mother as he watched her take dainty bites of her dinner. Forcing one calm breath through his  nose , he set down his fork. A second calming breath and he was leaning back in his dinner chair. A third breath and he felt a semblance of control come back to him. 

“Deal with Granger?” He murmured, his eyes staying on his plate as he moved the food around. “What do you think will be happening, mother?” 

“Draco.” He glanced up and saw the set of her mouth, the glint in her eyes. Feeling the creature under his skin pulling up, he waited with bated breath. “I only meant how to get her to bond with you. I did not mean any sort of threat against the witch. If she is what will help you, I only hope that she will see past our previous grievances.” 

He nodded as he felt himself relax, unaware of how tense his body had become when his muscles loosened and a breath escaped his lungs. “I apologize for assuming, mother.” She waved him off with a flick of her wrist and went about eating the rest of her meal in companionable silence, leaving him to stew in his thoughts. 

* * *

It only took two days to hear from Granger. Two very miserable days. He wouldn’t deny that he contemplated going to see her again, but the rational part of his brain forced him to wait. The irrational part of him had him beating himself up for the rational parts lunacy. 

The owl that stopped on the dining room table during his breakfast didn’t stop for more than a treat before flying off once more. The letter laid before him with a familiar scrawl on the top,  _ Malfoy _ . He couldn’t help the smirk that started tipping forward. Ten years and she still had the same writing – always in a hurry, a mix between cursive, elegant, and chicken scratch from being in a rush. With barely contained excitement, he opened the letter and felt the air leave his lungs. 

_ Malfoy,  _

_ Lovegood was able to point me in the right direction. I have found a book on Veela and I have it here in the shop. It’s yours at your earliest convenience. Just owl me if you can’t make it during opening hours and I will do my best to find a time convenient to you.  _

_ Granger  _

_ P.S. It’s a very interesting read.  _

He wasn’t shocked that she had already started to peruse its pages. It was Granger, for Godric’s sake. Worry began to eat at his very bones though. He couldn’t leave her to read the whole damn thing before he had a moment to read it himself. He wasn’t even sure what was in that book that he may or may not want Granger to know. If she was smart, which everyone knew she was, she would discover his secret, and he wasn’t ready for that just yet. He wasn’t ready for her questions, and he wasn’t ready to give her the answers. 

Glancing up at the clock that rested high on the wall, he found the time to be just half  past eight. Plenty of time to dress and meet her at the bookstore  at the opening hour. He took one last bite of his eggs before pushing back and racing up the stairs back to his room to finish dressing in proper attire for going out. 

* * *

Hermione had been pleasantly surprised at the quickness with which Luna had responded to her request. One thing that Hermione had always appreciated from Luna was her ability not to ask questions, but rather just be forthcoming and helpful. While she hadn’t always thought much of Luna during their school years, over the past year she had come to find her a dear friend. One with which she appreciated more than she would probably let on. 

Luna’s letter quickly told her a few things about Veela – usually of French descent, pale, with white or silver hair, and pretty rare in nature. All things that Hermione was aware of already, but what made her pause was Luna’s last comment – their hair can be used in wands, just like Phoenix feather or dragon scale, but it’s quite hard to use. Hermione hadn’t been aware that there was any wand in existence that used Veela hair as a core. Not long after that comment, Luna mentioned a gentleman in the south of France with  whom Hermione should contact about a book on Veela lore. She immediately reached out to him. Their correspondence was quick and he was happy to send a book to her that he had in his possession, about the nature of Veelas. 

That very night, she stayed well passed closing hour to start reading the contexts of the book. Its cover was old leather, worn and dark from years of use and other hands touching and handling it. Its pages were in great shape, despite the age and obvious use of the book.  The text was written in Latin and took her a bit longer to translate , she hadn’t brushed up on her Latin since before the fall of the Dark Lord, but she was immediately enthralled in the lore that was written within the pages. 

Veela are naturally beautiful creatures – their natures meant to charm and woo those around them. But once their mate is found, no other shall hold a candle to that person. Their life begins and ends with their mate... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next update. Any/all mistakes are my own as I do not currently have a beta. Let me know what you think so far. I am trying hard to create a new spin on the Veela story line and I hope some of you are appreciating it. Happy Friday.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six -**

Draco stood outside the book shop as the drizzle of the rain pelted down. He had arrived a few minutes early, but he hesitated knocking, even though he saw a light coming from within the store. He thought perhaps she may leave a light going in the store all night, but the beast under his skin was quite content to wait. Draco surmised that meant she was nearby because so far, the only time he felt content anymore was when he had been near her. The last few days had been sheer torture attempting to keep the beast contained within the walls of the manor, when all he felt like doing was going to see her. What he thought would help for a while only caused him to want to see her more frequently. It actually was becoming quite the problem, as he had business meetings to attend, and all he could concentrate on was trying to hold still. 

Finally, after yesterday, he had his secretary reschedule all his meetings a few weeks out until he could figure out what to do with his present condition. His mother was growing more and more worried with each passing day. Commenting on the hollowness in his face, the lack of color, and his ever-growing quick temper, she tried to reason with him. He knew she was doing it because she worried about him. He supposed that’s what mother’s do. She’d done it all her life – in her own way. 

The door before him creaked open, shaking him from his thoughts. From the sliver of light on this dreary day, he was shown the bright, honey brown eyes of Hermione Granger peering up at him. The spark of life he had hoped to see was still gone, causing a feeling of unrest to rise up in him. 

“Malfoy? Um, you’re here early... why didn’t you knock?” 

He brushed past her. “You don’t open until ten.” He watched her follow behind him before she jetted off behind the counter. 

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have-never mind.” She shook her head. Her curls falling all around her face. She huffed with indignation as fly-aways brushed her cheek. Quickly, she threw it up in a messy bun atop her head. His eyes followed her movements and he had to grit his teeth when he watched her sleeve draw down to reveal the word “Mudblood”. She however, drew his thoughts away when she reached out to push a book in front of her. “I think this might be what you’re looking for, or rather I hope it is. I read a bit of it, hard to unscramble Latin, and it had a lot of informative things to say.” She glanced up from the book to see his eyes studying her. She hesitated though not knowing if he looked annoyed by her reading parts of it, or oddly amused. It was hard to tell with Malfoy. 

“Such as?” 

She startled. “Um, such as most Veela are not pure Veela anymore – for obvious reasons. And the Veela Gene is Recessive. So, it can lay dormant for a few generations.” He nodded slowly. It made sense, since he was the first in many generations to show the trait in his bloodline. “That they’re volatile when they can’t find their mate, or are forced to be separated... It’s a fate worse than death.” She shivered as she remembered a few tales she had read about this exact circumstance. “What truly amazed me is that they can produce wings in times of extreme circumstances! Can you believe that?!” She looked up into his startled face. 

“Wings?” He scoffed. “That sounds like a fairy tale, Granger.” 

“It does – but can you imagine seeing it in person?” 

“You’re painting a picture of an Angel-like creature; Veelas are not that.” 

Shaking her head quickly, she took the book back from him and started flipping through the pages. “You misunderstand – Veela are amazing! They’re....” She paused in search of the right word. Using the finger nail of her thumb, she ran it across her bottom lip. Glancing up, she met his eyes across the counter with a smile spreading over her lips. Her eyes gleamed in excitement. “Magnificent, for lack of a better term. They’re like shifters that can sprout wings and claws when under pressure, or in danger.” The pages stopped flipping and she pointed her finger to the picture printed in front of him. Spinning it around to face him, she pushed it forward. The print showed a Veela– Draco's assumption, at Final Form. The Veela in the picture was very obviously female, but from her back were wings that reached toward the sky. The picture, or rather painting, was only in black and white so he couldn’t guess what color the wings were but he was pleasantly surprised by how well the painting was depicted. It almost looked like a photo, but without movement. 

Draco flipped the page over and started per-using over the pages. Certain words would pop out at him, but despite the temptation to read it in that moment, he hesitated reading in front of Hermione. He could feel her eyes on him and he didn’t want her to look farther into his soul and see just what he was currently hiding. 

“How much do I owe you?” He glanced up and saw the hesitation in her eyes. “You told me you would come up with a sum once you had the book,” he reminded her. His voice was gruff and final. 

She rattled off a number as she wrote a receipt slip up for him. When she finished and handed it to him, he slipped some coins into her hand. The brush of his fingers against her palm made her jump as if a bolt of lighting just traveled up her arm. Her neck craned up to look at him, but she was unsurprised to find his face was a blank mask. A mask she hadn’t seen since sixth year. When his eyes seemed to darken, she glanced back down to the coins in her palm and frowned. “This is too-” She heard the door shut at the front of the shop and couldn’t help the corner of her mouth turning up in amusement. 

* * *

Hermione worked around the shop for the next couple of hours. A new stock of books had come in and she took the time to place their titles in her archives, before taking them to the front. Her arms full of books, she began to wander around the shop to place them in their rightful places. Weaving in and out, since no one was around, she took the time to reorganize the shelves as she went, dusting as well, to keep the patrons from sneezing and getting their cooties on the books, because she didn’t care how magical one was, germs were germs. 

It took a couple hours, and a few breaks to help the witches and wizards that wandered in, but she was able to finish before the end of the day. It was a good feeling that she could stop at a decent hour and make it home in time to finish her own reading. While she appreciated the literature on all things magical, a good muggle book was waiting for her, and her bathtub with a glass of wine. It sounded perfect for a night in for the bookworm herself. 

Making her way around the bookstore, she set about manually locking the front door before going about and setting her protective wards. It was common knowledge who owned Discordia and it wasn’t uncommon either for those who still believed in blood purity to attempt to vandalize or destroy her store. Harry had been there the first time she found Mudblood written across her store front. It took a lot of guesswork to try to undo the damage the spell work had casted but luckily, the brightest witch of her age was not just a title. Harry had been furious when she told him, but she had persuaded him to ignore it and not go on a rampage. It was hard for him; she knew that even though the war had ended, he was more protective of his loved ones. As if he was worried he would blink, and they’d be gone, and he’d be back facing off against the Dark Lord again. She had brought up counseling – she knew a squib in the muggle world, who knew about the second Wizarding War, that would be perfect for a person like Harry, but he always brushed it off. Eventually, she stopped mentioning it. She would be a hypocrite if she pushed him and couldn’t push herself to go. 

A quick flick of the wrist, one last glance to make sure everything was in its proper place, and she apparrated home. Quickly, to get out of the rain, she rushed inside after releasing the correct spells to get inside her apartment. 

“Hello, Crooks,” she murmured as her orange feline came rubbing up against her leg. She reached down, letting her bag slide off her shoulder to the floor, and picked up the fluffy creature. His purr was faint, but she heard it as she went to the kitchen to feed her mangy beast. 

It didn’t take long to feed him, and herself, before she found herself wandering to her office and grabbing her current read. It was resting on her desk where she left it. Swiping it into her hands, she turned right back around and shut the door behind her before going into her bathroom and turning the water on. She stripped down from her work clothes, leaving a clothes puddle by the door before slipping into the warm water. Sinking down into the heat, she closed her eyes for a moment. Her mind went racing over her day and how it had begun with her Slytherin... former? arch nemesis? Malfoy had definitely been strange, and it was even stranger that she had him coming to her on such a strange subject. True, Veela lore was quite elusive, but to reach out to her of all people? It had to be out of desperation, she thought to herself, as her brow furrowed in concentration. But why would he need to know about Veela... 

Her mind started reeling from all the thoughts running through her head. If Harry or Ron were around, she was sure they’d be saying that smoke was escaping through her ears. They never understood how she could keep track of all the information that she absorbed and filed away for future use, but they had been very thankful for it during the war. She scoffed to herself as her thoughts were interrupted by thoughts of the two of them. She didn’t get a chance to see much of them anymore – one by choice, the other not. 

She took one deep breath, breathing in the scents of the sweet citrus from the bubble bath she had dumped in the water. 

After a few moments of emptying her brain, from what the world had labeled the Golden Trio, and she was back to thinking about the Slytherin Prince. He had her wondering more and more about his sudden obsession – no, curiosity? - about the Veela. Did it come from an infatuation from when the Veela from Beaxbouton had visited for the Triwizard tournament? Had he come across a Veela in his travels? Did he even travel? She had known that he was excused from going to Azkaban since he had been a child during the war – so long as he stayed out of trouble in the future as well. His family was constantly making donations to the rebuilding of the community and to the school, but if she was honest, she hadn’t even thought about, or realized what he had been doing for the past year. He hadn’t really been mentioned in the Daily Prophet. 

Another large, deep breath and she pushed herself down into the warm water, taking a moment to be still. Draco Malfoy was smart. Second in their class – following right behind herself. Which made his interest in finding out more about the Veela all the more curious. Hermione was sure that the Malfoy family had more connections then she did in the book world – money _did_ talk, even in the wizarding world. _Why would he come to me?_

Unless he needed the anonymity. 

This led Hermione’s brain down a whole new spiral of questions, and before she realized it, the bath water had turned cold and her fingertips and toes were pruny. 

She pushed herself out of the tub, letting the water drain out as she towel’ed herself dry. Her hair was thrown in a messy bun atop her head, lest the long, wet strands cling to her skin. Once she finished drying, she made her way to her bedroom and pulled on her favorite t-shirt, her parent’s dental office shirt, and a pair of shorts, before crawling into her bed. The warmth of the covers didn’t take long to drag her down into the world of sleep and rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter six! I'll be posting Chapter seven later this week :) I'm almost caught up with fanfiction.net so yay! I also am currently working on WIPtember with the facebook group Dramione Fanfiction Writers. They're fantastic and have truly helped me get back to writing - especially this story. I worked on the plot outline and got a good chunk planned out yesterday so that's SUPER exciting. Anyway, thank you for sticking around and I hope you all like this so far! Happy Wednesday.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven -**

Draco woke with a start. His heart was thundering in his chest. He blinked away the fog that had been covering his eyes and found himself again at the window of his bedroom. Thanking his foresight to magically lock all the doors and windows in the room, he pushed himself back. This was becoming a problem. A very dangerous problem. His sleep was getting ruined by a need. A need to be around his...mate. A girl he had hated his whole childhood. While he realized that she wasn’t what his father, and, to be honest, what much of pureblood society had made mudbloods – muggleborns - out to be, it didn’t erase the animosity that had passed between them. It didn’t erase anything. 

Struggling to push himself away from the window, his eyes caught sight of scratch marks against the wooden frame. A shudder ran through him as he realized things were escalating, despite having seen her a few days ago. While he thought it would soothe the beast within him – he was quickly realizing that the creature had gotten a taste of being around her, and now it was having a hard time being separated and without any contact. 

Draco took a deep breath that forced air into his lungs. He was struggling to keep control. His vision was wavering, and he was quite sure that if he wasn’t careful, the control would soon be gone completely. He pulled out the Veela book again, and the notepad he kept at his desk. A few things had been noted on the paper, but fear was slowly encasing him the more he read about the Veela. They were strong, quick and intelligent creatures. It explained a lot of things about himself, but he had the misfortune of finding his mate – which from the literature he was reading, only about 1/3 of Veelas actually found their mate in their lifetime. Any other time this probably would have made him feel lucky, but not only was his mate his nemesis, the literature was saying that if he didn’t bond with his mate, he would slowly lose his mind in the cruelest form of torture. He would be driven to madness as his body slowly started to wither away as time went on. 

_ The bond between the Veela and its mate is the most treasured thing to a Veela. Veelas are protective by nature and they would do anything for their mate. _ Draco scoffed. While he did feel the need to be near her, he wasn’t confident that he’d be willing to lay down his life for her. _ Veelas who fight the bond find themselves struggling. They’ll wake up in a room, or simply a place other than where they had gone to sleep. This is the Veela inside, seeking out their mate, subconsciously. _ He was well aware of this struggle. 

One thing to note –  _ if the Veela is rejected by their mate, they will die. There is no way around it. They are made for that person. There is nothing more sacred than this bond and when that bond is rejected, the Veela has no reason for moving forward. Their will to live deteriorates. _ Draco felt his stomach drop and could have sworn the universe was laughing at him. 

His life was literally in Hermione Granger’s hands, and he wasn’t sure that he would live to his next birthday if that was so. Nothing in the text stated a timeline, but at the pace things were happening to him, fear started crawling around in his mind. A scream crawled its way up his throat and sweat beaded on the back of his neck. Before he realized it, he was on the floor, screaming himself hoarse. Some part of his mind was thankful that he hadn’t yet undone the spells that locked up his room from anyone getting out, or better yet, getting in. 

It wasn’t until several hours later, that he dragged himself up from the floor and made his way down to the dining room, where he asked one of the passing house elves to get him some toast and a cup of tea. His stomach was a mess, but he knew that he needed to get something in or he’d be bed ridden before long. 

His mind was a mess, and he was sure that his body was starting to punish him. All his muscles were straining with each movement, and utter exhaustion was starting to set in. 

“Draco, darling?” He glanced at the entryway to see his mother, in her dark robes, waltzing into the room. “Are you alright? It’s quite late in the morning.... you don’t look well, darling. Should you be in bed resting?” 

He sighed as he took the cup of tea from the waiting house elf. Murmuring a thank you, he sipped at the warm liquid before setting it down to answer his mother. “I’m dying.” He waited a breath before glancing over at his mother. Her hand was at her throat as she stared down at him. “It would seem that if Hermione – my mate,” he seethed, “does not accept me, that I am destined to wither away. There is no way around it.” 

“But darling – surely there is time to find out what can be done,” she reasoned, but he could hear the desperation in her voice as she forced out the words. 

“Mother, I’m already struggling.” He glanced down at his hands. “I hardly sleep. I can hardly keep food down. My body is... angry with me.” 

“What can I do?” She sat down beside him and reached for his hands. “Would you like me to speak with Miss Granger?” 

“NO!” He shouted, yanking his hands away from her touch. “You will NOT go to her. Leave her out of this.” 

“As you wish, darling,” she murmured as she lowered her head down. Draco could see the tears forming in the corner of her eyes, but he could do nothing to soothe her when his own soul was in chaos. “Will you be reaching out to Miss Granger yourself?” 

“No.” He pushed away from the table, causing his tea to spill on the table as he rushed from the room. No. He couldn’t face Granger. He couldn’t place his pride, his life, in her hands, only to be rejected. Worse than the life he had, he couldn’t take the wound to his pride or give her that power. The power that she literally held his life in her filthy hands. 

Rage and anger filled him as he raced up the stairs back to his room. The door slammed behind him and he quickly grabbed his wand. Tight in his grasp, he went about setting the spells necessary to keep everything out. Then, he unleashed himself on the room. His rage coming to life in the blink of an eye. 

* * *

By the time he came to from his blacked-out rage, the night sky had risen and his room was left in tatters. Nothing was as it had been, nothing left alone and everything destroyed in his wake. The walls had scratch marks everywhere he looked. His closet was a mess of torn and tattered clothes. His bed had been torn to pieces and the frame broken. Horror filled his chest as he realized the destructive nature his creature was bringing about in him.  _ Or maybe this has been me all along _ , the thought flitted through his mind as the darkness crept into every nook and cranny of his mind. 

Nothing good would come from talking to Granger, and his own pride was stilting him from even playing with the idea. His pride – the Malfoy pride, was, and would always be, the downfall of the family. His father had used his pride to destroy the family bond. Letting in that mad man had shown just exactly how far his father was willing to go, just to save his own pride. 

But Draco couldn’t point the blame when his own pride was keeping him from even talking to Granger about exactly why he needed to know about Veela and what she could do to save him from certain death. But help from that mud-muggleborn... he shook his head. One of the golden trio, nonetheless. He was a hypocrite. 

He dropped to his knees and let his hands fall beside him. Chin to his chest, he whispered a few spells to clear the destruction of his room. Within moments the chaos that had encompassed in between the darkened walls was nothing but a memory, and the scraped-up walls were once again clean. The room was spotless once more. Magic – how did muggles live without it. Heaving himself up, he made his way out of his room and down to the library. He needed to find some family history books to see when the last Veela was and how he would perhaps live comfortably for the last of his days. Perhaps a potion would knock him out – or perhaps a potion to get him out of his own head, even if it did make him loopy. Shrugging his shoulders, he placed his hands into his pockets and started his walk down to the library, silently feeling his muscles tugging him in the opposite direction. He ignored it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & here is Chapter Seven. Happy Friday & Enjoy :) A little bit on the shorter end, but you can't complain when you've gotten two chapters in one week!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Eight -**

Hermione rushed down the path of Diagon Alley, swearing foully under her breath. Today was just not her day. Three owls had woken her up pecking at the window to her bedroom. Her alarm hadn't gone off, or rather she forgot to set it, so she woke with a start and quickly grabbed the letters which now were sitting in her pocket – unopened, due to her tardiness. Her shop was supposed to open in 15 minutes. Definitely not enough time to make herself a cup of tea which she was desperately needing after staying up late looking into Veela lore herself.

Half of her wanted to tell Harry about what she was thinking, but she also worried that he would start on a rampage. It wasn't worth the screaming and yelling, the headaches, or even the disapproving look that she would receive if she mentioned that she was curious, because he knew her. He knew she would go poking her nose where it didn't belong. But Pot, meet Kettle. She could easily point out that his curiosity is what caused the fiasco of sixth year, involving that horrendous spell, but then he would point out that he had been right all along about Draco Malfoy's status as a Death Eater. Though, she would possibly argue, it hadn't been by choice – not that Harry would listen, especially in the middle of an argument.

So here she was, researching any chance she got; after work, before work, in between customers coming and going. She tried convincing herself that she was simply sating her curiosity, but deep down she knew it was more than that.

Crookshanks was her sounding board, whether he liked it or not; he didn't bother responding with anything more than a few blinks up at her from his golden eyes. Part of her also wished to reach out to Luna Lovegood, or perhaps the gentleman that had been kind enough to gift her the book that she had given to Malfoy, to get some more information, but something made her hesitate.

If she were being honest, what she wanted to do more than anything else was reach out to Draco Malfoy himself. Maybe hint at the curiosity that he had started, and perhaps wanted to discuss it with a fellow intellectual... she shook her head with a hint of a smile on her lips knowing Malfoy would see right through it. He wasn't an idiot.

She shoved her way through the front door, after quickly casting the required spells to unlock the building. Lucky for her, she had left it spotless the night before. Glancing at the clock, she realized there was still not enough time to make the required tea that would help her brain cells work a little faster, only barely enough time to drop her coat and bag off before heading to the front again, to greet any of the early birds that walked through the door. It was Saturday, so she knew it would be a busy day for her, and without any help, she wouldn't have a chance to sneak into her bag to read some more on what little information she had on Veela. A realization that made her lip come out just a tad more than normal... Almost a pout, if she were being honest with herself.

One deep breath in, one deep breath out, and she threw back her shoulders, placing a gentle smile on her lips, preparing for the onslaught of customers that were about to come gallivanting into her quaint little store.

Lack of tea, a few patrons with grumpy attitudes, and a skipped lunch made for a rough, hazardous witch. She should have known that it would be just her luck to not catch a break. She craved tea – like the Americans with their bloody coffee. The weather had taken a turn in the afternoon, making the skies gray and dreary, which didn't help her attitude at all. It only made her crave…. tea. And a book, and some warm socks by a fire, but alas, she does not seem to get what she wants, now does she?

A quiet lull in the afternoon did present her with a moment to look at the letters that she had stuffed into her pocket. One was a note from Harry, requesting dinner Monday evening – Ginny would be there, of course. A slight curl formed to her lip, but she suppressed it and quickly penned off a note that she would be there once the store was sufficiently shut down for the night. One was a note from a pen pal across the seas – one who helped her acquire certain antiquated books, that rare finders were on the hunt for. She saved that for later. The last letter however, did come as a shock. She recognized the elegant scroll right away, in the dark green that she had seen on his previous letters.

_Ms. Granger,_

_Thank you for the book. I've found it quite illuminating and just what I had been on the search for. I appreciate the effort that you put into finding this for me, despite our past grievances._

_Well wishes,_

_D. Malfoy_

Hermione's brows rose high up her face as she reread the letter, not once, not twice, but thrice. Not only had he been cordial, he brought up the past and didn't make one nasty remark. Bringing her fist up to her mouth, she brushed the back of her thumb nail across her bottom lip in concentration. This was definitely a turn of events. Had anyone told her this time last year that she would be helping the infamous Slytherin Prince, she would have hexed them there on the spot. She was confident that the feeling was mutual, at least back then. Now she was hesitant – a little weary, and if she was honest, she felt a little bit reckless.

This may be the opportunity she needed to pen her own note to him in hopes that she could get her hands on the book she was reading, or perhaps find out once and for all if her theories were proven correct. Glancing up, she noticed a few stragglers amongst the row of books. They seemed to be wandering and didn't look to need any guidance. She had a few moments to herself – the conundrum though, should she take those moments to make some tea, or pen a quick reply to the Slytherin.

Her bravery won out. She quickly fished out a quill and ink and jotted a few words down. Her scrawl wispy and quick on the tattered paper. A quick signature before sending it off on its merry way. Apprehension nipped at her, but she brushed it aside as she heard the bell above her front door ring out with the entry of a new comer. Before glancing up, she forced a smile to reach her lips but as her green eyes met the blue of her ex, she felt her stomach plummet to the ground.

"Ron," she forced out between gritted teeth. Good words had long since been over between the two of them, after their explosive end of what he deemed a relationship. A few quick kisses, pressured attempts to consummate their love, and nagging about her hopes and dreams, she quickly found that the two of them could not be more different and farther apart in personalities. Ron, being who he was, did not take it lightly, and had exploded in anger. Words were said that could not be taken back, and despite the half-attempted apologies, Hermione found that she didn't miss him as much as she should have for someone who had played such a crucial part in her life for so long. She knew Harry struggled with the fact that his two best friends didn't get along anymore, but she had stopped caring when she found that Ron had started trash talking her behind her back, and Harry hadn't attempted to stop him too much.

If Ron noticed her tone, he was a better actor than she had realized. He had his usual easy going smile over a wide mouth. She rolled her eyes.

"Hello, 'Mione," he greeted as he leaned forward on the front counter. She took a step back as she caught a whiff of his usual grassy, earth smell. It was hard to remember a time when she actually thought that was a wonderful smell. Now, with tainted memories, it repulsed her. "I was wondering if you would be joining Ginny, Harry and I for dinner on Monday."

She cursed internally. Harry conveniently forgot to mention that Ron would be at said dinner. "Yes." She stepped back once more. "I just penned off a note agreeing to join."

"Oh, well that's great!" He turned and pressed his hip against the counter as he glanced around her little store. "Your store seems to be doing well." She heard the underlying skepticism coloring his words.

"Yes, well, not everyone hates books as much as you," she griped.

"'Mione," he turned and attempted to reach for her, but even despite his long arms, he was unable to. She watched the clouds come rolling into his eyes. "Can't we just… start over? Try again?" If her vision could really turn red, her world would look like a blood bath. His idiocy really didn't have an end in sight, but she couldn't start an argument in the middle of her establishment. That was uncouth. And judging by the slight twinkle in his eyes, she realized that was exactly what he was hoping for. Glancing around, she quickly whispered a spell – a spell used to keep wandering eyes from looking at them as well as a spell to keep this conversation she was about to have with her ex, private. The daily prophet and whatever current gossip column that was lying in wait did not need to air her dirty laundry. She may have been a public figure during the war, but she was done with that life, she would no longer be a figurehead. She was done having her life printed for everyone to see. She wanted to be left alone – that included being left alone from one Ronald Weasley.

"Ronald," she started. "I will say this once, and only once. We are not getting back together. I do not want to try again. I do not want to be in a relationship with you, and I do not want you trying to force it upon me. I am happy with my life right now."

"But it could be better. We could be happy together again."

"No." She fisted her hands together and took two calming breaths. "You and I want different things out of life, Ronald. I am not a broad mare and I sure as hell am not your housewife." She saw the rage building in his face as the color of his skin was quickly matching the color of his hair. "Now, before you make a scene, I must ask that you please leave." He stood up straight and took a step closer to the counter. "Or I will cause a scene and have you removed – forcefully." This is where he hesitated. He may be stronger physically, but the both of them knew who was gifted more magically.

"You're going to end up alone, Hermione. No one likes a Swotty little know it all." He huffed out a few more dark words before slamming the door on his way out. Luckily there was only one customer in the back at this time and didn't seem to notice. Not realizing she had held in her breath, she let it out with a rush and felt her body lose all the adrenaline. If she hadn't been standing close to the counter, she was pretty certain she would have fallen right over.

She had never told anyone, but Ron's rage terrified her. He could fly off the handle like that. It used to never bother her – especially as they were children, but something had changed in her, and in him, after the war. He was quicker to anger, and she was a lot more cautious around anyone who could change moods with a flip of the switch. Cautious… that was the word for her life now. Everything she did was with caution. At one point in time, she would have jumped head first with the boys, and now… she did not take unnecessary risks. Or rather, very few. The last risk she had taken was in building her business. It would either flourish, or fall into a pit of broken despair and her heart would be ripped from her body.

Her little bookstore was more than just a bookstore. It was a symbol of her independence, her love of knowledge and her future. She had done this all by herself – building it from the ground up. When she had thought about all that she had wanted to do – the only thing that did not make her panic on the inside, was to own a bookstore, and share her love of books and knowledge with others. If this bookstore failed, she knew she would feel like a failure. Just like she had with her parents. She couldn't go back to that again...

* * *

By the time she made it home that evening, the sun had long since settled. The moon was perched high in the sky, and a warm breeze had shocked her. After the dreary skies and the periodic rain showers, warmth was the last thing she expected. It was a pleasant warm breeze, so she had opened up her little balcony window before feeding Crookshanks and making her way into the living room. Tonight, she hesitated in her need to research, because she could feel the weariness settling into her bones. Too many late nights, too many early mornings and now a good argument with one Ronald Weasley. With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the couch and leaned her head back against the back of the worn leather. A headache had been haunting her since his quite obnoxious departure but with enough water, she had managed to keep it at bay. Now it was fighting its way to the front of her head with a fierce and angry vengeance.

Thankfully she would not be in her office tomorrow. The store was closed Sundays and every other Monday. A two-day weekend sounded wonderful after the hellish day she had just had. Normally she appreciated the hustle and bustle that came with the start of the school year and Saturdays, but this particular Saturday had been one of nightmares. Nothing particular, other than the altercation with Ron, but a bunch of little things here and there throughout the day. Everything seemed to be going opposite of the way that she either wanted, or needed.

Stifling a yawn, she began to ponder just how much energy it would take for her to get up and make her way to her bedroom. More than she was willing to give, was her thinking. But just as she leaned back again to close her eyes, she heard a ruffle of feathers coming from her open balcony door. Swirling her around, she found a magnificent Golden Eagle Owl perched against the railing. She hadn't noticed him this morning, but she had been in such a hurry she hadn't paid any attention to the owls that had greeted her. Forcing her weary limbs to move, she made her way over and took the waiting letter from his claws. Before she could offer him a treat however, he unfurled his mighty wings and took off into the darkened sky.

Turning back into the kitchen, she glanced at the letter in her hands and paused. Dark green script with her name greeted her from the envelope. As she turned it over and noticed the familiar family crest, she felt her chest skip a beat. A tinge of fear spiked its way up her spine, but she shoved it back and forced herself to open the letter.

She tore the family crest to see the familiar scrawl.

_Granger,_

_I'm not quite finished with the book, but I would be willing to meet you to discuss the different findings. I hadn't realized my visit would bring about such curiosity, though I should know better from the brightest witch of our age._

_Malfoy_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> You guys will be excited to know that I am participating in WIPtember in a group on facebook - Dramione Fanfiction Writers. They've been a great sounding board and someone to help with getting this story going. I've been currently stuck (I'm in the middle of Chapter Twelve mind you). But after reading some of their posts and information, I sat down yesterday and created a VERY ROUGH outline! So I've got a really good chunk planned out! I'll be writing this week and hopefully I'll get somewhere soon! I'm excited! Happy Friday!!!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine –**

Malfoy couldn’t deny the instant decision to see her was brought about from pure agony. His nights and days had begun to blur until he received that letter asking him if she could perhaps borrow the book once he was finished. That his interest had brought about a curiosity in her that just wasn’t to be sated with the scraps she was able to find. A quiet laugh may have escaped him when he had been reading those words. 

When he had sent off the reply he hadn’t realized the time and instantly felt regret. He hoped his owl would come out unscathed for waking her up. However, he had been in for a shell shock when he had come back untouched, and with a response. Her quick agreement to meet was a warm balm to his soul, one which he had snarled at himself for. No matter how he attempted to push it away, the smallest of contact with the witch was creating a pittance of relief. A pittance that he was gladly accepting, despite his hesitations. When she had offered to meet him on Monday at the shop – stressing that her shop was closed, but it would give them some privacy from prying eyes, he couldn’t help the mix of emotions flitting through his mind. 

Relief, that he would be getting a chance to quiet the chaos within, a little hesitation, at being alone with her, and a snarl at her assumption that he would want to keep their contact a secret – though he could see her view point, if he thought about it. He hadn’t been kind to her in the past, and he had let her know that he did not appreciate being seen around a mud-muggleborn. If Draco wasn’t careful, he would end up calling her that to her face, and then he would definitely be left to die a horrible, well deserved death, alone. 

Sunday was tomorrow. That gave him a chance to collect his notes, as well as his thoughts, about this meeting that would be taking place. Part of him hesitated in being alone with her, but the other part was thankful there would be no onlookers. He knew he should let his mother know about the meeting but again, he hesitated. She would push for him to reveal the truth to her – push them together, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Hermione Granger could not be forced to do anything. Not even his Aunt had been able to breech her walls. A sick dread filled him when that thought flitted across, but he pushed it back into the dark crevices of his mind. He couldn’t let the rage come out again. It wouldn’t help anything, or anyone, at this particular moment. 

Having taken a seat on his bed, he pushed himself back against the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. Could he really make nice with Granger? Yes, she had definitely grown in the last year, but he could still see the malnourishment under her clothes. He wondered yet again how tweedle dee and tweedle dum hadn’t seen it. 

Worry had eaten at him. When he saw her, would her hate of him, make her turn him away? The fire and excitement in her eyes the last time he saw her had given him a spark of hope. Hope that he may have a chance; but that thought was desperation. He didn’t know her. He hadn’t liked her in school, and he wasn’t sure that his opinion would change, despite the beast living inside him wanting to reach for her every chance it could. 

The conflict was giving him a headache. Rubbing his temples, he closed his eyes and counted out ten deep, long breaths. The headaches had increased the longer he fought against the creature. If he wasn’t careful, the creature would win and there was no telling what it might do to Hermione when he got to her. 

Forcing himself to sit up, he murmured out loud to himself. “For now – we’ll make excuses to see the witch. See if that sates the beast enough for me to get enough rest.” Realizing the lunacy, he smirked to himself, but he felt its presence at the back of his skull, and could practically feel the purr running along his spine. Two beasts in one body. A failed death eater with a coward's heart, and a Veela, chasing after an unobtainable mate. The fates were making a cruel joke out of him, that was for certain. 

Tomorrow could not come soon enough. 

* * *

The small little coffee shop that Malfoy stopped at on his way to see Hermione was in muggle London. Over the last six months, he had started frequenting this place in avoidance of the paparazzi and any of the wizarding world. He had easily been shunned by many, and ridiculed publicly, so he chose to avoid that by going where no one would recognize him. Amongst the muggles, he was just an ordinary man with no past, no future, nothing. They greeted him kindly, sometimes a little rudely if said person was having a bad day – but all in all, Draco Malfoy found that he didn’t mind. He still didn’t understand how they could live without magic, and he was sure that he would never quite understand, but he couldn’t help but admit their brilliance in the form of Coffee. If he could, he’d kiss the inventor because these days he found that coffee was the only thing keeping him going anymore. The house elves made a good cup of coffee, but these coffee houses made a piece of heaven in each cup. 

He waited in line pondering just what type of coffee Granger drank, but was stumped. She was studious, but thinking back he had never seen a cup of coffee in her hand. She always had tea… but wasn’t that a wizard thing? Or perhaps she wasn’t able to get coffee at Hogwarts. Making a quick mental note in the back of his head, he grabbed his usual cup, a Vanilla Mocha, and at the last second, added a London Fog for Granger. The barista smiled flirtatiously at him when asking for his name – Drake.  _ No, drac-o, _ he huffed for the millionth time. He realized it wasn’t a common name, but were people really that hard of hearing, he wondered. A deep breath and he was pushing himself through the onslaught of people arriving in this little hole in the wall, a wandless spell to keep the drinks from cooling, and he was on his way to visit the witch. 

* * *

He arrived ten minutes early and wondered if he should walk around, but there were so many people around. He didn’t want to chance running into anyone. So, he pushed himself close to the door and into the shade of the alcove before the shop entrance. 

Suddenly, the door swung open, almost causing him to drop the drinks. 

“Malfoy!” He turned to look at the witch. He was surprised to find her in muggle jeans, ones that clung to every inch of her legs, and a long sleeve sweatshirt. The strings from the hood tied into a bow at her neck. Her hair was placed atop her head in a messy bun, but her wayward curls were poking out in rebellion. What shocked him even more was the glasses that were perched on the bridge of her nose. They were wide and square, making her golden, honey eyes appear even larger. “You’re early! Come in, come in.” He took a few steps forward before turning to face her. His arm reached out quickly to hand her a cup. 

“This is for you.” She blinked at him a few times before taking the cup in question. “I-I realized I don’t know what you drink so I just got you a London Fog, but if you prefer Coffee I haven’t… Well, I have a Latte if you prefer.” His heart thumped widely in his chest when she frowned down at her cup. Damn, he did something wrong. “Or we can just toss it. I just needed my morning coffee…” he trailed off when her head came up and a wide smile was spread across her lips. 

“Thank you, Malfoy. I do appreciate it. I actually haven’t tried a London Fog before, but I’ve heard spectacular things.” She put her lips on the rim and took a sip. A happy murmur came out of her making the Veela inside him roar in triumph. He held in the smile wanting to escape from inside him. “I didn’t realize you drank Coffee. I thought that was an American thing.” 

“I thought it was a muggle thing?” He titled his head to the side as he followed her deeper into the store. “It’s an Americanized drink?” She nodded slowly as she rounded the counter and took a seat from the back before bringing it up front for him to sit on. 

“Here,” she gestured for him to sit as she turned to take her own seat. He didn’t sit down though until she was sitting in her own chair. Manners dictated his actions. She didn’t notice. “Americans drink more coffee, and the English, as you well know, are an army of tea drinkers. Though, I’ve heard we are starting to bring more and more coffee in.” Her shoulders went up once. “I’m not a fan of coffee – too bitter for me. I’ve heard that adding cream and sugar helps, but I’m happy with my tea and honey.” 

“What types of tea do you drink?” He asked before he could stop himself. 

“Breakfast tea, Oolong tea, Chamomile tea,” she laughed quietly. “Honestly any tea I can get my hands on.” She took the London Fog and brought it to her lips for another sip. “Mmmm.. This is still warm!” She turned it over in her hands. “This coffee shop… it’s in muggle London.” Her eyes shot across the counter to meet his as her brows went lower over her brow. 

Taking a swig of his drink, he set it down and met her stare. “If you have a question, Granger, ask it.” 

She hesitated. Things were going well, but her curiosity was getting the best of her. Quickly, she spit out her question from behind the safety of her mug. “Did you willingly go to a muggle coffee shop?” 

He nodded. “No one knows my history there.” She stopped short and gazed at him with wide eyes. “No one knows what a Death Eater is there. It’s – a reprieve, not to have to be turned away at the door.” 

“Oh Malfoy, I’m so terribly sorry that has happened to you. I thought with the pardon you wouldn’t have to deal with that,” she murmured as she fought trying to reach for him. Her heart ached for the man in front of her. Despite their history, she didn’t feel anyone should be treated in such a despicable manner. 

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he pulled out a trinket from his pocket. A quick flick of his wand at the item in question transformed into the book that she had found for him. “Shall we begin?” He watched the spark show up in her eye as she fought wanting to question him. He could see the fire raging and he knew the Gryffindor wanted to go to bat for him. That was the way of the Gryffindors, whether anyone liked it or not. So to avoid it, he brought up her favorite – research. Anything she could get her hands on and she was going to look into it. Obviously, his interest in it had sparked a curiosity in her. 

“Yes, let’s.” She knew his scheme. She knew his trickery. Slytherins were notorious for their sneaky ways, but she understood the necessity for it in his circumstance. He didn’t want to be pitied or looked down upon. That wasn’t in his nature. She may not know him well, but she did know quite a bit about him just from being in the same classes. She was observant, and unfortunately, he had been her only clear rival in academics. For all his snarling and scheming, she knew he had a brain inside that pretty blonde head. This also gave her an opportunity to scheme herself – to find clues. 

“I brought some of my notes along as well,” he said as he pulled out the notebook from his coat pocket. Standing up, he slipped the coat from his shoulders to reveal a tight-fitting long sleeve. Snug around his shoulders, she was able to see he had definitely filled out since Hogwarts. “Let’s start with you – what have you learned from your sources?” 

She leaned forward to set her chin in her hands as she mentally checked off her list. “I know that the Veela presents itself at maturity. Gives them strength, agility and sharper wits – including smell and hearing.” He nodded along with her. “That they’re either beautiful or handsome, that there is not a displeasing specimen known.” This made him chuckle. “That the Veela are considered a rarity anymore. Not much is really known, and there are fewer and fewer each decade. Merlin, each century.” That was all information he had found on his own. 

“Anything else?” 

“That they can spout wings when their mate is in danger.” His heart stopped when she said the word mate. “If they do find their mate, that person is their sole reason for living.” He looked away from her. His heart still on pause as his breath stopped. “Though, if they don’t find their mate they live ordinary lives and whoever they decide to marry has a struggle with women or men flocking for them. Because Veela, no matter how much they love that person, are always on the lookout for that mate.” 

That was new information. He glanced over at her to see her eyes honed in on him. “Anything else?” 

“No, unfortunately it seems you have the book on Veela, and I wasn’t able to read the whole thing!” She laughed. 

“Veelas are very territorial. It’s in their nature as a predator.” Her brows rose up. “They are volatile and rash – especially in relation to their mate.” He took a deep breath, but regretted it instantly as he caught a whiff of Granger. Tea leaves, parchment and a hint of citrus. A wince at the Veela trying to get closer, he fought the urge. “You’re right, a Veela’s life is all about their mate. That’s part of the reason they’re so dangerous.” 

“What happens… I mean, does the book say anything about what happens to the mate when the Veela is around? Is it a mutual feeling? Does that person realize?” He shook his head. 

“From my readings, it seems only the Veela realizes it. It’s not a two-way street.” 

“Huh,” she pressed her thumb nail across her lip in concentration. “That’s rather sad.” 

“Sad?” He asked as he watched her movements across her lips. 

“Yes, I mean the Veela has these intense feelings and knows that destiny has made them into one! But the other person doesn’t get to feel it, or realize the same thing. The Veela is alone in ecstasy.” 

“You make it all sound like a tragic fairytale.” 

“Well I mean, it sort of is for me. I grew up hearing about soul mates – a fantastical idea that one single person is out there for you. A magic all of its own. That one person is made to fit you perfectly. So, when you tell me that one person gets to feel it but the other one doesn’t – well that is a bit tragic, don’t you think?” She turned her head to the side and looked across the counter at him. His eyes were down on the counter with his arms crossed as he seemed to concentrate. 

“I-think that you live in a world of make believe, and that not everything is so pretty and quaint.” He regretted the gruffness in his tone as he spoke to her, but he couldn’t get past her idea. He hadn’t realized how she may feel in all this. He hadn’t even thought about her, and the possibility of her feeling the connection. Thankfully, none of the research admitted to the mate having that connection in the same way that the Veela did. “Veela’s don’t get a say in who their mate is.” 

“What happens…,” she trailed off as she glanced out the window. “What happens to a Veela whose mate dies? Or can’t be together?” 

He felt his insides rip into two as he listened to her question. He had hoped she wouldn’t go on this train of thought and part of him so very wanted to tell her right there and then, to avoid this heartache but instead, he lied. “They’re miserable the rest of their lives. No other will quite live up in stature to their one true mate.” He supposed a half true was better than the full truth. If she realized that she was his mate, and possibly his death was inevitable – she would sacrifice herself. And while that was noble, he didn’t want a half of her. He wasn’t even sure he wanted the whole of her. While she had grown since school, she was still Granger. This idea that she was the one destined for him was preposterous. How could a Mudblood be the one for him, when his whole life he had grown up being told that they were beneath him? That purebloods were the future, and the only ones worth the magic given to them. 

And yet, that thought was quickly swept away, because the woman sitting in front of him, her eyes scanning across the pages of the text in front of her, was one of the smartest and most lethal witches he had ever seen in his short life. There was something to be said there – that a mudblood,  _ a muggle born,  _ could use magic better than those who were born into the wizarding world. That depleted anything his father had tried pushing into his brain for years. 

A heavy sigh escaped him, causing the witch in front of him to glance up. “I apologize, I was just thinking. What makes soulmates – or rather, how are soul mates selected for one another?” He glanced out the window as he spoke, to see that the rain had started to drizzle down onto the cobblestone street outside. “What if you are mortal enemies? But the fates decide you are soul mates? How is that possible?” 

Hermione tilted her head to the side as she looked at the man before her. He brought up a good point. She knew that if anyone were to pair her with Goyle, or Crabbe, she’d be wondering how on earth was it possible. Searching through her memories of texts that she had read in the last 19 years, she tried to remember what had been stated about Mates, or Soul Mates. Rarities as they were. Even Wizards had a hard time finding their TRUE soul mates because of just how rare it was. 

“I think it’s the way they fit together. Like they’re the missing piece of the other. Two halves coming together. They even out the other. Like... one has a temper, and the other is calm, so they’re able to mellow with one another. The one with the temper is also strong and protective, so they’re able to watch out for the other, who may be calm, but may have trouble standing up for themselves.” She tugged at her sleeve as she looked off into space. “I’m probably speaking in riddles. This is all just theory obviously, but it's how I imagine it.” Draco nodded, taking in everything she said as he tried to process this information. “A mate is your better half. They’re not perfect, but they complete one another in the most perfect way.” 

“You are a romantic,” he scoffed, but she didn’t miss the small smirk that had slipped out from under his mask. “It makes sense though. Let’s hope the fates don’t play tricks and pair a couple together who make each other miserable.” 

“I’m sure they would have their reasonings, I suppose.” She flipped a page in the text. “It looks like Veela has a strong sense of smell, too. Hmm, that’s interesting,” she trailed off as her finger followed the words printed on the page and she went about reading more and more. “Oh, they also require less sleep than the average wizard or witch.” 

Draco hesitated. He felt as if he was sleeping away his days and yet not getting the rest he so required. He wondered if that was a negative effect of avoiding his mate. It had felt good to be free of that need while sitting beside her, but a piece of him hated that at the same time. He hated being needy. It wasn’t built in him to require help from another – let alone from Hermione Granger. He felt the inner turmoil turning over and over inside him. 

* * *

Hermione looked up to see a dark storm passing through Malfoy’s eyes. His fists were clenched on the counter top and there was no focus. Whatever he was thinking, it was sparking anger in his body. Furrowing her brow, she recalled reading the passage about Veela and their Volatile nature. Could this be proof? A thought possessed her in that moment as she watched him. Gently, so not to startle him with her movements, she moved her hand down to her side and checked that her wand was there, just in case. Not that she felt he would hurt her unnecessarily, but her thoughts were leading her down a potentially dangerous path. 

The only way to be sure, was to test her theories, if she truly wanted to know if Draco Malfoy was in fact a Veela, and she knew that if she wanted to test one theory right now, she would need to egg him on. He already had a short temper, but she had a feeling that it was about to get a lot shorter if she did what her brain was pushing for. The easiest way to egg on Malfoy, to bother him to where he exploded in anger, was to question his family, force the knowledge that Hermione had bested him in every class, or to bring up her lack of pureblood status. Walking a fine line between possible friendship, or rather acquaintances, and enemies, she chose to stick with his and her smarts. Leave family and blood status alone for the time being. 

“Malfoy, you have an upper hand on this Veela stuff since you started before me on the research.” He woke from his reverie and jerked his head in her direction. “But if I had the book, I could easily do the work for the both of us.” She shrugged her shoulders and brought her hands up down to her lap – always at the ready. “I mean, we both know that I’m good at this stuff. I did outsmart you in all our classes.” 

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Just because I didn’t go raising my hand in the air at every question, Granger, does not mean that you bested me.” He looked at her face and saw the determination written all over her face. She was purposely egging him on, but he didn’t know why. They had been having a rather mellow time, but he hadn’t noticed the change in her. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know. Unfortunately for her though, Gryffindors were notorious for having their emotions written all over them. I guess their upbringing didn’t teach them the necessity to mask their emotions. It had definitely come in handy with the Dark Lord living within the Manor. 

“But Malfoy, everyone knows you always came second.” His hand flickered. She knew he didn’t realize he had made the movement, but she watched him carefully. What the hell, let’s add gasoline to the fire. “It must suck that you came second to a  _ mudblood,”  _ she smiled, but it was all fake. There was no warmth as she said those words. His eyes glazed over as she watched him stiffen with each passing word. His hands came to the edge of the counter as he gripped it, probably to keep from putting his hands from around her neck, but he just leaned forward with a glint in his eyes. 

“Oh Granger,” his voice was whisper soft, but deadly. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that to get under my skin.” Lies, and he knew it. She was already buried deep inside where the Veela was currently waiting. “I’ve had worse than you try to get my ire and this,” he swept his eyes between them, “does nothing to me.” More lies. 

“Fine,” she admitted her defeat and leaned back as she crossed her arms. “I guess part of me is wondering why you would  _ willingly _ spend time with a mudblood.” 

His eyes swept over her face. This was too close. This was too personal. He couldn’t handle it. He felt the terror snaking its way up his throat. There were no words that he could give her right now. There was no reason that he could give that made sense, or that he was willing to explain at this particular moment. His hands flexed out a few times before he stood and took a step back. Keeping his gaze toward the floor, he quickly picked up his coat and the empty coffee container. 

“Thank you, Granger, for the stimulating conversation,” she swore she could hear the cynicism in his voice. “Have a good day.” Then out the door he flew. 

Hermione blinked and felt the confusion written across her face. Of all the reactions she could have received, she would not have guessed his abrupt departure. 

“Perhaps I was a little hasty,” she whispered to the empty store. Glancing down she grinned to herself. Luckily for her, perhaps a little unlucky for him, he had left the book behind in his wake to leave so quickly. Walking with measured steps, she went to the door he had just vacated through, and set up the locks and protection spells before taking her seat once more. Her curls, the wayward ones that seemed to always escape the hair bun she had placed upon the top of her head in a hurry, made an unnecessary measure to tickle the front of her face. Blowing air out, she attempted to get them out of her face. Half heartedly, they moved to the side of her head instead as she tilted it against her fist, her elbow resting against the counter while she leaned over the book. 

It didn’t take long for her to become fixated upon the scripted words racing across the old papers placed between the leather bindings. Words flowed underneath her vision as she continued to read on, thoughts quickly being raced out of her brain with each passing moment. So many things about Veelas came to light and while she had been in contact with Fleur, she had never really taken notice of some of the traits that they carried. Veelas were usually fair haired – definitely fit for Malfoy and Fleur; striking good looks – a definite for Fleur, but she faltered when she thought of Malfoy. 

Her gaze went blank as the thoughts flowing through her head started to take over. Did she think Malfoy was good looking? During school, he had been gaunt and thin, and even as he aged, she wouldn’t necessarily say she had been attracted to him. Partly because of his attitude and personality, she was sure, but now? She would most definitely say that the man was nothing short of attractive. His gaze was startling, eye color so vibrant and cold, and he had filled out in all the right places, leaving one to wonder if he had started working out. That made Hermione pause, did Wizards work out? She supposed they did because quidditch players had to be in good health to play but she couldn’t say that there were any bulky built Wizards. 

Shaking her tirade of thoughts from her head, she continued on reading. Her fingertips brushed against the worn pages, and she breathed in the smell of the old book. This. This was precisely why she chose to stay within these walls, and not in the stuffy bureaucratic office, where the only pages that she came across would be those on laws, or annoying and boring memos that would be sent to her. While many thought she would follow that path, or perhaps follow in the steps of the other two of the Golden Trio, by joining the Ministry, she knew that was not a path she longed for. The simplicity of life fed her plenty now. 

By the time Hermione looked up from the book, mostly due to the hunger pains in her stomach, she found that hours had certainly passed, because the sun was well into the sky, casting a golden light in through her store front windows. Sitting up, she felt the stiffness along her backside. A groan as she pushed herself off the chair to a standing position, she mumbled the whole time. Arms rising above her head, she attempted to stretch out the aches and pains. It was definitely time to go home for the day. Crookshanks needed the company. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here is a LONG chapter for you all. I'll be posting Chapter ten later this week! Please let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own. I do not currently have an alpha/beta reviewing this before I post! I'm in search of one, but I'll be honest... I'm too lazy to do the actual searching.  
> Please note -   
> If you do not like the Veela Trope, please remove yourself from the story. I'm not asking you to read this. I'm not asking you to be a douche canoe to me because you chose to read something you do NOT like. Just quietly move away and find something that you would enjoy.

Draco apparated home before he could turn back around to strangle the witch. The change in her attitude had come as a shock to him, but he had not liked her calling herself a mudblood. Or rather, the creature resting peacefully moments before, had not liked it, and had come roaring to life within him. It had made his control start to slip. 

Within the walls of the Malfoy Manor, he shed his coat, letting a house elf – one whose name he could never remember – take it to hang. Where, he did not know. His thoughts had immediately gone to take count of his body, and how it was fairing after being in close quarters with Granger for so long. The beast, while still aching to be near Granger, was much more content and wasn’t warring within him to get out. That was progress. That time spent had obviously quieted it down for the time being. While he did have to suffer time with the know-it-all, he appreciated the moment of peace that it brought about afterwards. 

Running a hand over his face, he headed toward his study. A drink sounded like a necessity at the current moment, before he dived back into some more research. His notebook, inside the pocket of his pants, was going to need to be updated with his reactions about his time spent with her. He would need to keep necessary updates if he was going to see how each and every interaction either hindered or helped him. The book would help to clue him into what matched up, or what perhaps was something new, or rather, something entirely brought on by himself. Just as he went to walk up the stairs, he paused.  _ The book,  _ he cursed to himself. In his haste, he had left the blasted thing there for her to peruse. 

“Bullocks,” he groused, stomping his way up the stairs. That woman was probably reading it now and discovering all the secrets he was attempting to keep hidden, well beneath the surface. She was too damn smart for her own damn good. 

Slamming a glass down, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey before shooting it back quickly. The burn felt good. He was an idiot, letting that muggle born get the best of him like that. He was trained better than that, to face off against more daunting opponents than her. So why was he so skittish around her? The bond? That was the only real answer he could think of. She left him off kilter, and it was making him weak minded. He needed to get this handled. 

* * *

A couple hours later, he felt the tugging start at his navel. Damn the peace hadn’t lasted as long as he would have liked. With a deep breath, he started to take calming breaths in. Calming breaths out. A form of mediation, but it did nothing to ease the ache that was coming back tenfold. It was like a burning ache in the pit of his belly, like he was going to bottom out and fall to pieces right there in his study. The need to see her was calling to him faster and stronger. 

_ Perhaps it was a good thing I left that blasted book then,  _ he thought to himself. Taking out a sheet of parchment he quickly wrote out a short message to her. Folding it with practiced precision, he grabbed the wax and poured it over the edge. Taking the seal from the corner of his desk, he stamped it shut and then called for an elf to send it off for delivery. 

* * *

Hermione had just finished putting on a movie on her muggle television, something she had yet to part with from the muggle world, when she heard a tapping at her window. Looking up, she found the Malfoy owl sitting on the banister, waiting with a letter in its massive claws. It had taken Malfoy longer than she had thought to realize his foolhardy mistake. Smiling to herself, mostly out of cockiness, she stood up from the couch and walked over to let in the bird. 

“Thank you,” she murmured as it stretched out its clawed foot and dropped a letter into her welcoming palm. The owl turned and left before she was able to offer it any of the treats that she kept on her kitchen island. The letter was in its usual manner of being pristine and having the emerald colored wax seal of the Malfoy crest on the back. How one made such a perfect circle with a wax crest was beyond her, but she wasn’t really one to talk, because she didn’t even have a family crest, nor did most of the families that she knew. 

_ Granger, _

_ I believe you have something that belongs to me. Do return it in a timely manner and not get sucked in before I have a chance to read the bloody thing. _

_ Malfoy _

A grin slipped over her lips. Mostly out of pure vindictiveness, she decided to wait until morning before writing a response to the blonde-haired man. Was she egging on the Slytherin? She supposed she was, but this was the most fun she had in a very long time. Even if the man in question wasn’t pleased by her behavior, it only added to the fun – for her. 

* * *

Monday morning came all too quickly for the bushy haired witch. The sun rose too brightly, the time too early for the morning to be rising, especially when she had stayed up all night researching accounts of muggles and wizards alike, who had encountered Veelas throughout history. Some were too vague to be worth accounting for, but some left her with more questions than answers. Veelas were a very private breed, in the sense of their lives, and especially when it came to the mated Veelas. 

Pushing the covers over her head, she closed her eyes and tried to get more sleep, since the early hours of morning – probably around two in the morning – had been her sleeping hour. It had been quite some time since she had stayed up so late, and slept so soundly. She hadn’t had a nightmare; or at least, not one that she remembered. Perhaps sheer exhaustion was the trick for keeping the nightmares at bay, not that she would attempt that on a nightly basis. Enough time on the run had effects on her body that she still was attempting to chase off. 

Sleep however, would not come for the witch, because her familiar was yowling at the bottom of her bed. Shoving a foot under him, she pushed the hair ball off, only to have him come back again. This time closer. Throwing the covers off, she slammed her feet to the ground as she hefted herself off the bed and stomped her way to the kitchen. Quickly, she fed the  _ starving _ creature. Once he was satisfied, she turned to walk away and crawl back into the warm covers that were beckoning her with a mighty force, only to stop when she eyed the creature from last night on her banister once more. 

“Oh Merlin,” she huffed, exasperated that no one in the bloody world was giving her a break this morning. She didn’t bother with a thank you or a greeting as she snatched the letter and made her way back to her covers before she opened the letter. 

_ One night is plenty. _

That’s it. No greeting, no signature. One line. Rolling over, she placed the letter under her pillow. Mainly because her night stand was too far away, as she was smack dab in the middle of her bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and warm comforters. 

_ Just five more minutes, _ she thought to herself as she felt her droopy lids finally flutter closed as sleep claimed her once more. 

* * *

Draco felt the fury rising in him. That blasted witch was either being purposely obtuse, or was ignoring him intentionally. Grumbling under his breath, he went to his study with his notebook in hand. The study was dark, despite the morning hours. Thick curtains covered the vast windows, but with a flick of his wand they moved out of the way to let the sunlight in. 

The heavy wooden desk sat in front of the window facing toward the door. He took a seat in the leather chair and pulled out the notebook he kept with his own personal findings. He jotted down the difference in the allotted time he was given reprieve after having been in Granger’s space versus how long it had taken last time. He found that hours had changed. Last time it had taken a full day before the effects started to kick in once more, but this time it had only taken half a day. Disappointment reared its ugly head, but Draco tried to push it down as he meticulously wrote all his observations down while they were still at the forefront of his mind. Also attempting not to think about the woman who currently had his blasted book. 

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to see daylight streaming in through the window. Rolling over, away from the light landing on her face, she groaned into her pillow. Her eyes drifted shut, but she forced them over to look at the clock. It was almost eleven.  _ Merlin, I slept way longer than I thought _ , she thought to herself as she forced her way out of bed. Sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the bed, she tried to get her head cleared of the brain fog that seemed to want to hold on for dear life. Perhaps she had overslept too much, if she was feeling this groggy. Rubbing a hand down her face, she shook herself and forced her way into the kitchen. At her window, again, stood that large, obtrusive owl. While at first, she had thought it regal and a sight for sore eyes, she was starting to realize it was much like its owner. Obtrusive and arrogant. She unlatched the window over the kitchen counter and took the offered letter from its claws. 

_ Give me my bloody book, Granger. _

Well, she definitely could feel the fury soaring through the air with those words. Using the same piece of paper that was in her hand, she reached for a pen that laid atop her countertop and jotted a quick response. 

* * *

Draco lifted his head up at the sound of a pop. He looked over the top of his desk, standing a bit, to see one of the house elves enter. 

“A letter has arrived for you, sir,” it squeaked from its spot on the floor. Tugging at the pillowcase outfit with one hand, it looked down at its feet while its hand rose up for Draco to take the letter. 

“Thank you,” he murmured just as he heard another pop signifying the house elf had left once more. 

He unrolled the parchment and couldn’t help the smirk that came sneaking out of the corner of his mouth. 

_ If it's that bloody damn important, and since you show NO patience, come and get it your bloody damn self. I am allowed a sleep in on my day off, Malfoy. _

Mornings did not seem to be Granger’s strong suit, if her foul language and abrupt nature of the letter were anything to go by. Not one to back down from a challenge, he muttered a quick  _ Accio. _ His day clothes, a pair of slacks and a gray button down with a pair of black shoes, arrived. Quick to change from his own pajamas, he dressed with haste. 

Stepping up to the fireplace, he grabbed the floo powder. Closing his eyes, he muttered, “Granger’s Residence.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and appreciating this story I've been working on. I also want to say that I appreciate all the love and kudos. I've been receiving some flack because I'm writing a Veela fic... "Veela's are only female, so are you making Draco Female?", etc.   
> Guys this is a piece of FICTION. Fiction is make believe. Fanfiction is a fan's view on the make believe.  
> Also - if Stephanie Meyer, author of Twilight, can write about Vampires that SPARKLE.... I can make my Veela male.   
> Thank you.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

Opening his eyes, he was startled to see a quaint little living room. Taking a step in, brushing the dust from his attire, he took a glance about the room. The Veela in him purred at the smell of Granger wafting through the air. The Malfoy in him hesitated at touching anything. Everything was nice enough, he admired her taste, but it was small and books were littered everywhere around the room. A few steps in and he heard movement coming from what looked like the hallway.

Glancing up, he watched as Granger walked toward him with a mug of tea in her hand. Her eyes remained steadfast to the piece of literature in her hand. What shocked him though, was her lack of attire. Is this how muggles dressed for sleep wear, he wondered as he eyed the barely there shorts, showing off her thin legs and an oversized t-shirt with a giant tooth and some writing on the front. The shirt itself looked thin and was showing just enough of her shoulder from falling open around the neck. He watched as she walked her way through an opening in the wall – to the kitchen he assumed. He hesitated going to her, though the creature under his skin was wanting to feel the soft flesh that had been exposed before their very eyes.

Self-preservation won however, so he called out gruffly to her, announcing his presence.

"Granger." He heard her drop something, hopefully the book and not the mug, before she came peeking her head from around the corner. Her eyes, wide in surprise, beckoned him like a siren at sea, but he folded his arms over his chest, hoping this would help the control from slipping completely. "I believe you have something of mine." He tried to keep his tone cold, but he heard the hesitation in his own ears.

"I-um, yes I do..." She came around the corner and leaned her shoulder against the wall and stared at him. "I-I must say though, I'm surprised you are here."

"I believe you are the one who invited me, Granger," he huffed with narrowed eyes.

She shook her head gently. "Yes, yes I know that, but I didn't think you would actually... show up," she laughed to herself. "I should know better than to challenge you." She unfolded herself from the wall. "Would you like some breakfast," she glanced at a contraption on her wrist, "Or rather Brunch. I was just going to make myself something to eat and since you are here, it would be remiss of me not to offer you any." She didn't wait for his reply as she walked back into the kitchen.

Shock resonated through his body as his hands dropped down to his sides. Granger just left him standing there, and had invited Slytherin enemy number one into her kitchen for a meal in her... sleep attire, or lack thereof. The Veela was voicing its happiness rather loudly in his head, forcing him to shove himself forward toward the witch and whatever she was concocting within the kitchen. The books were, thankfully, stacked up in neat piles, so he had plenty of space to walk, but he still felt a little claustrophobic from just how small her space was.

"You know Granger, I would have thought with the money that the Ministry gave you, that you would be living it up in a much bigger space," he said by way of greeting as he entered into the small little kitchen. A small table sat on the opposite side of her cooking space, giving him a place to sit and watch her as she flitted about from corner to corner. He furrowed his brows as he watched her. He knew that she didn't approve of the house elves doing manual work, but she was a witch. She could easily use her magic to make them a feasible meal. He found himself not commenting on the strangeness, watching her move about instead, listening to her as she answered his question.

"I returned part of the ministry money." She glanced up from her work space at the counter as she cracked some eggs. Brushing her hair out of her eyes with her wrist, she continued on. "We all fought in the war. No one should get accolades for doing what is right." Her back was turned so she didn't see the wince that shook his body at her comment. "Plus, Harry is the one who defeated the Dark Lord. I just helped him. Besides, I had some in savings after selling off my parent's dental practice." She saw the confusion cloud his face. "Teeth healers. I used that portion of the money to buy the shop. I don't need much, but I won't lie and say I wouldn't mind a bigger place." A flash of a smile before she turned away again. He watched her move from here to there to here again, all the while murmuring under her breath. He could hear her, what she was murmuring, with his Veela capabilities, but he remained quiet, taking the time to appreciate the solace. It also gave him a moment to really take a gander at her.

Hermione Granger was thin, thinner than she had been in high school. He had seen that from just his few encounters with her, but she had definitely changed in healthy ways as well. He could see the change in her from the first time they had met at the Gala, she seemed to be putting back on the weight she had lost making her fill out just enough that he could see her curves coming back. Her hair, while still wild, seemed to have lost some of the frizz that used to be associated all through her school years, was reaching all around her. A hint of a smile had stretched out when he watched her huff out a frustrated sigh and throw it up into a messy bun atop her head as soon as she finished cracking the last of the eggs. She seemed to do that more often than not anymore as if the mess of hair was more of a hindrance than anything else.

Hermione came around with a plate in each hand, setting one in front of him, the other opposite and she turned back to the kitchen, returning with silverware and a few toppings. Setting them out in front of him, she turned once more to the kitchen, to come back with a pot of tea and two cups. Setting a cup in front of him, she poured the warm liquid, then filled in her own cup and took a seat.

"The omelet has egg whites, ham, green peppers and red peppers. I don't know if there is anything you'd like on top – I have cheese, salsa and," she glanced back at the kitchen. "I may have sour cream." She glanced back, but he just shook his head.

"This is fine," he murmured and quietly cut into the omelet in front of him. She must have seasoned it a little bit, because he could taste parsley and some sort of spice. It wasn't too terrible, so he remained quiet as he continued to eat. He glanced over at her and found that she was nibbling on her omelet too, but mostly drinking her tea. "You should eat."

His voice must have startled her, because her eyes widened and she leaned forward to put her cup down. Tea had spilled out onto her hand, so she quickly took a napkin to dab at the liquid seeping down. As she attempted to dab at the liquid that was trailing down her wrist, he saw a hint of the scarring along her forearm. A sudden wave of rage rose inside of him, seeing the lettering peeking out from under her sleeve, but he tried to push it down. With precise movements, he picked up his tea cup and took a gentle sip, despite the violence hiding underneath his skin. The Veela was raging inside his rib cage as if it was a jail cell.

Hermione could see the quietness suddenly take over him. Almost like he was thinking about every small movement. She had been lost in her own thoughts as she sipped at her tea when she had heard his voice. It had startled her, making her tea drop on her and she had made quick work of cleaning it up but when she had glanced back up at him there was something lingering in the way he moved. Whatever it was, she could see him attempting to keep it under control, but it was there lurking in the shadows behind his eyes.

"I have to admit... this is weird," she interrupted as she took another swig of her tea. She watched as the clouds seemed to clear behind him as he looked over at her. Not for the first time, his eyes brought a quickening in her pulse. So gray and dark and it was as if he had pinned her down with just that look. "If you had asked me last year, or a few years ago, if I thought my future self would be sitting across my breakfast table eating with Draco Malfoy, I probably would have myself admitted to St. Mungo's."

Draco continued to stare at her. His hands poised around the mug that she had offered. The heat kept him focused. She was right. It was weird and despite what he knew, it was still hard to sit across from her. Difficult because for the past seven years he had been taught one thing and though he knew he didn't agree with it, it was still a habit hard to shake off. He, finally, nodded his head in agreement to her remark as he let his own thought trail disappear to the back of his mind.

"I probably would have cursed someone for mentioning it back then," he admitted with a small smirk as he glanced over at her. He watched as a smile spread over her face. His whole body froze and he could do nothing but stare. The Veela was purring in delight and it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore it. Taking a drink to hide the purr rising up in his own throat, he tried to distract himself. His eyes pulled reluctantly to gaze about her small kitchen once more. Anything to avoid her eyes and her smile. Anything to avoid looking at her.

"Malfoy," she interjected a few moments later. "Here's your book." He turned to see the printed leather bound in her hands. Reaching across the table, he reached out to grab it. His fingers brushed against hers as he pulled it from her grasp. He felt the breath leave his body as a moment of peace echoed in his mind. No rattling from the creature. Just contentment. His eyes flickered to hers to see if she had a similar reaction but she had started to clean up their plates. Sucking in breath, he held as he quickly stood up.

"Thanks for brunch." And he was gone.

Hermione blinked over where he had been then back to the entryway leading into her living room. She had to admit, this morning had turned out dramatically different to any other morning she had recently but she couldn't help the smile stretching across her lips. She was bound and determined to discover if Draco was truly Veela. Something was off about his behavior. It had been since their swift meeting in the bookstore.

Draco Malfoy did NOT seek her out for nothing. She was Mudlbood Granger so either she was his last resort, or he was desperate. No matter what he might say - she was the best. It was common knowledge she could find anything. A small smirk reached her lips as she turned to finish cleaning up the kitchen while her gears started turning with a way to get Malfoy to admit it. It would be no small feat getting the Prince of Slytherin to own up to a Mudblood Gryffindor, but Hermione was up for a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's your weekly update. I'll admit I haven't been writing as much as I would like and you all are catching up with me. So I better get my butt in gear! Let me know what you think :) I'm trying to show Draco's struggle well but I'm not confident I'm doing that so any advice would be fantastic!
> 
> Again - mistakes are my own.
> 
> If you do not like Male Veela/Draco as a Veela, you are more than welcome to bypass this story and we don't have to go through all the nasty back and forth... or let me be honest, I'm just deleting your comments. I don't need you. You don't NEED to be a douche canoe to people because you are bored or don't like something. Just skip it.
> 
> Happy Wednesday!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

A week passed with no communication between the two. Draco documented his time during that week. Having touched her, just barely, seemed to have quieted the beast the longest. Four days of peace but by the end of the fourth day it was like the need to see her had come back at full force. He only lasted three nights before he was able to find an excuse to see her. He hadn't touched the book since getting it back, but his thoughts had been drifting more and more. His mother had started to worry by his lack of appetite and the lack of color in his complexion.

He quickly penned off a note to the bright witch – letting her know that he had finished the book, which he hadn't. He offered it to her over a cup of tea that afternoon. It didn't take long for another response to come fluttering back to him. She agreed but it was a quick letter. Nothing of great detail to note, but part of him started to ponder about her lack of response as he waited for the afternoon to arrive.

He arrived ten minutes early to Diagon Alley. He glanced back and forth before stepping forward into the mass of people zooming around. He noticed many families with their small children and realized that Hogwarts, the school, would be starting up very soon. He knew the restorations had taken some time, but he had seen the updated photo of the castle and was glad that it remained looking the same. Despite the tragedy that happened on the school grounds, he was glad that it came back stronger than ever.

Walking down the street to the tea shop, he noticed a small sign upon the door. "Closed for restorations. Be back tomorrow."

Cursing under his breath, he turned swiftly down the road to head off Granger. Hopefully he could meet her on the street and they could come up with another place they could possibly visit on her lunch break.

It didn't take too long before he was in front of her shop just as she was exiting it, closing the door with a loud thump behind her. As she whirled around, she bumped into him and almost fell on her bum if it weren't for Draco reaching out and grabbing her.

A pleasant hum ran through his blood at touching her and felt the familiar inner peace take over his body that he had to close his eyes for a split moment. Taking a moment, he appreciated the feeling before shaking himself back to the land of the living.

"Malfoy..." His eyes dropped down to look at her as he let her go, taking a step back from her. "I thought we were meeting at the tea shop?"

"They're closed for maintenance. I was trying to catch you to let you know..." he trailed off.

She glanced down at the watch on her wrist. "Well, I know a sandwich joint just out of range of Diagon Alley if you'd like to join me." He nodded and fell into step behind her as they made their way out of Diagon Alley. "So how was the book?"

He shrugged, letting himself enjoy the quiet inside himself. His eyes on his feet as he walked alongside her. Every once in a while, his elbow would brush against her shoulder but she didn't step away or make an attempt to address it. His brow furrowed as he started to internalize his thoughts. He appreciated the moments of quiet from the beast but part of him hesitated in his appreciation. She was still the filthy …. But she wasn't. Her blood was the same as his. The only difference was that she grew up without the knowledge of magic where he had been immersed in it from day one. Yet, she still bested him in every subject during school. He should have the advantage with his upbringing.

He couldn't just forget their history though. Vile words had been thrown between them for many, many years and yet - here they were. Walking in companionable silence. Draco would never have thought that this would happen in a millennia. Let alone in his lifetime.

Seated at a small corner table in the sandwich shop that Hermione had chosen, she sat next to the window while Draco sat opposite her. His back to the few other people around them. She quickly placed her order for water, light on the ice, while he scanned over the menu. Having known her order by heart, she took a moment to view the man in front of her. His eyes were focused on the menu in his hands, but she noticed the dark circles starting to show more and more under his eyes. Never once had she seen him so unkept - not at Hogwarts, and even with his gangly legs and gaunt figure during sixth year there was something a little worrisome about his appearance now. He was fuller - broader shoulders, muscles where skin and bones had sat, but his skin was paler. His eyes sunken in, especially with the dark circles.

Biting her lip, she placed her hands on the table. Tapping a finger against the book in between the two of them, her thoughts started to run rampant inside her head. The vast difference in his body was something she had read about in the Veela book. His interest in Veela… Something was going on, otherwise why in the world would he be entertaining the idea of spending time with her - the mudblood. Glancing up, she noticed his eyes lose focus and his head tilt back a bit.

"Draco?" She interrupted in a barely spoken whisper watching as he snapped his head toward her. Her answer was in that single spoken word. She had whispered so low that no one would have been able to hear her. But Draco Malfoy had heard her as if she had yelled at him. Veela's had incredible hearing.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she asked, "Are you ready to order?" He nodded.

A moment later, the waiter came over and took their order before he went off to the next table. Draco's eyes had drifted outside the window where he was currently people watching with a downward turn of his lips. His eyes darting between the people coming and going, unawares of the turmoil swiftly turning in the pit of Hermione's stomach.

Where's your Gryffindor courage, you dolt, she thought to herself as she made to take another drink of her water - sans the ice.

It didn't take long for their food to arrive. They both ate in silence making Hermione feel even more unstable. Shifting back and forth on her legs, she tried to think up something. She knew that she wasn't in any immediate danger. She had her wand. But they were in a muggle sandwich shop and she didn't want to have to expose magic to the muggle world - she'd lose her magic.

"Granger." She glanced up from her chips to look at him. His eyes were staring her down. Part of her hated him - he was so tall, even in a sitting position that she had to still look up slightly. "You're fidgeting. Is something wrong?"

Here goes nothing, she thought to herself as she pulled her sleeves down over her hands. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Why bother asking me if you can ask a question? Why not just ask the question?" His eyebrow rose up his brow.

She bit her tongue as she wished to retort to his question. Instead, she blustered on but kept her voice low and her hands up on the table hoping this would help to keep him from thinking she was a threat. "Are you a Veela?"

Silence encased them as she watched what little of the blood in his face left and his eyes hardened as he looked at her. Several heartbeats passed through her chest that she wondered if it was going to beat right out of her chest. "It's not a big deal if you are and I won't tell anyone if you are wishing to keep it a secret, I just… noticed some similarities and it is rather curious that you came to my shop. I don't mean to invade - "

"I should have guessed the brightest witch would figure it out." Her head snapped up to stare at him. "I shouldn't be surprised. Curiosity always was a leading trait of yours." He commented dryly.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I mean if you are trying to keep it quiet… I promise I won't say a word. I'll keep helping you with the research if you want."

* * *

He took a sip of the tea that he had ordered as he watched her. He felt his pulse spike at her words and the fear slide down his spine. She knew. She knew he was a Veela and she was going to curse his very existence. It was going to happen and he would be dead by his next birthday. Months left, he felt like he was already wasting away and he had to depend on her. Of all the people in the world, he had to depend on his mortal enemy. The girl who beat him in every one of his classes. The only thing he knew that he excelled at compared to her was flying and that was only because she was terrified of heights. He was sure, if she didn't have this unrealistic fear, that she would find a way to excel at that as well.

"I would appreciate it if you could keep this quiet." He took a breath. "I'm still trying to adjust and figure out what is going on with my body."

She tilted her head to the side. "I can imagine finding out that news would change so much and your physical body changing so drastically, so suddenly!"

He hesitated. "Yes, it is."

"I mean your whole world is upside down. You think you've got it all figured out and then suddenly this happens! You're a Veela - do you feel much different?"

He furrowed his brows. Why hadn't she asked about the mate bond? "I suppose yes. I can hear quite well - even from a good distance. That's taken a bit to get used to. I am stronger. Faster." He shrugged. "My sight is incredible in the dark and my sense of smell is stronger too. Essentially everything about me is stronger." She nodded along as he listed off some of the changes.

"Well I guess depending on how you are viewing your life right now, at least you haven't found your mate! Imagine how much more chaos that would be in your life." A trickle of disappointment ran through him, but the sense of relief shoved it to the back of his mind. "Dealing with all these changes and then dealing with your life tied to one individual at the same time, geez. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Fuck, the irony.

"I thought I was your worst enemy, Granger."

She glanced out the window as she quirked a half smile. "You were never my worst enemy, Malfoy. An annoying Prat, I'll give you that but I can name at least five people who were much worse than you."

"I guess I should thank Merlin for small blessings," he remarked with a wry laugh. Hermione smiled at him over the table and if he didn't already have problems, he felt his heart give a hard thunk in his chest. He needed her brains. He needed her touch, for now, but he didn't need her. At least that's what he kept repeating to himself.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After my post last week and realizing you guys were catching up, I wrote an additional THREE chapters. It was VERY encouraging to see all the comments and remarks. Yes, I realize there are some mistakes in my posts - please note I do not have a Beta/Alpha to look over my work at this time. I have a friend breezing it through for me but she's pregnant and working full time! So, I'm trying NOT to ask too much of her. I need my little Niece/Nephew to be happy and content, not stressed because mom's stressed lol. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying. Unfortunately, I won't be writing more today as it's month end at work so I have to get back as soon as possible, but I snuck in to give you all your weekly update! I even have EVERY Wednesday marked in my planner with a Hermione or Draco or Crookshanks sticker to remind me to update :) All the way through December so far! Happy Wednesday lovelies! 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

A few weeks passed with the occasional meet up. Draco attempted to remain distant, but the beast inside him could only allow a few days in between visits. So, in what he thought were not obvious excuses, he would attempt to see Hermione. Sometimes they'd meet up for coffee. Other times he would catch her at her job. And on the rare occasion, she'd invite him over on her day off. Draco found they could talk about anything under the skies and he couldn't remember another person he could do that with. At least without judgement.

Not that he would admit it, but it felt nice to have an honest, fresh conversation. Sure, they did not always agree but they did always listen to the reasons that the other would give for their viewpoint point. Sometimes that helped. Other times, not so much.

Recently, they agreed to meet at the coffee house for a quick brunch to discuss some of the "symptoms" that Draco was feeling. They had gone over some of the detailed notes Draco had kept in his little black book, but Hermione stated it'd be best if they kept going with the observations.

Draco tapped his finger against the small table he sat at inside the local coffee shop. He glanced at the clock on the back of the wall and let out a frustrated sigh. Granger was supposed to be here an hour ago. Her tea was sitting there cool and untouched. He had ordered it upon entering the building. He had taken his coffee and her tea to a little table located in the corner of the shop. His frustration mounted with every passing minute.

Shoving himself from the table, he left a few coins on the table and walked out of the coffee house. Grumbling under his breath he made his way down the street toward her apartment. It wasn't like her to skip without mentioning or sending him some sort of note. But perhaps she was just avoiding him. He had been around a little more than not. She now also knew his secret. Perhaps that made her uncomfortable, he thought to himself but shook himself. This was Granger, she loved to dig into anything new and exciting. And he was confident being a Veela, a male Veela, was something she was excited to research for herself. Or, he double guessed himself, it terrified her that something like that existed. But that wasn't an excuse to not show up for a prearranged meeting - a meeting that she herself set up..

He pushed his way through the main entrance of the building. He stopped at the elevator. Staring at the red arrow that pointed up, he reached toward it before abruptly turning toward the stairs. He couldn't do it. He couldn't get into a metal contraption and just shoot up into the sky with no control. Admitting that Muggles were rather intuitive and inventive, he still couldn't force himself into the elevator. So he took the stairs two at a time until he got to her floor. It wasn't until he got to the last door on the right that he tapped his knuckles against the door. He felt her magic protecting the entrance to her space, so he had been slightly surprised that he was able to touch the wood before him.

Tapping his foot, he waited. Moments passed and he attempted to listen – even with his Veela hearing he couldn't make out any sounds coming from within. He knew that it could be that her magic was silencing whatever was going on inside so he tapped a little louder and waited once more.

"Granger," he called through the hunk of metal. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms. One thing he did sense was her presence. It was becoming familiar to him. He hadn't realized when it started but he could feel when she was near. He knew that his bond was reaching for her.

It didn't take long that time before he felt the magic drop. The door creaked open but he was surprised to see her still in her night clothes. A loose T Shirt and tight black shorts encased her legs leaving a lot of skin showing.

He furrowed his brow as he stared down at her. "Did you forget about our meeting today?" He questioned, his tone coming out a lot gruffer than he had intended and he immediately regretted it as her eyes widened and tears formed.

"Oh Draco," she stepped back to let him in, closing the door behind him. He felt his pulse pick up at the use of his first name. They were always, very firmly, formal by calling one another by their last names. He felt the beast purring in the back of his mind in pleasure. Gritting his teeth, he forced his hands into the pocket of his trousers as he looked at her.

She leaned back against the door and rubbed her hand down her forearm where the scars were. He watched her as she rubbed gently over and over the raised skin. It wasn't often that he was exposed to her scar – she kept it hidden from view but when it was available to her, he knew she touched it like it comforted her when she was thinking. Currently her fingers were brushing back and forth like she was trying to keep herself rooted. "I didn't mean to miss. I forgot we talked about meeting for a coffee this morning. I should have sent a note but I truly forgot that we discussed it. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting." Her eyes were pointedly looking at the floor with her hair around her face, keeping her from his view. He heard her intake of breath hitch as she attempted to gather herself before his eyes. It didn't escape his notice that her fingers were trembling even as she attempted to brush them up and down her arm.

He took a step forward. "What's going on, Granger? Are you upset about something? Did I-" He stopped himself. He wanted to reach out to her, offer a hand, but the fear of the rejection kept him rooted to his spot. He wouldn't be able to handle her flinching from his touch. He knew it would kill a part of him that he wasn't sure would come back.

He watched as she sucked in a breath before slowly letting it out. Her fingers paused in their map across her skin. He tensed however when he could smell the saltiness of her tears. Panic set in him. He had made her cry. A piece of him ripped apart inside his chest. His hands clenched at his side as he tried to figure out some way to make up for having made her cry. That hadn't been his intentions and watching her was killing pieces of him off one by one. He had done this to her.

"It's my parents' anniversary today." She took another deep breath. His heart froze in his chest. "They've been married for 25 years today and I'm not there to celebrate with them." She finally glanced up at him. "Not many people know this, but I-I took away their memories during the war. To keep them safe from-," he knew what she was going to say. "Well, anyway, it worked. They're safe."

Her hand was in his before he realized what he had done. The touch was soothing him so he could only hope he was able to reciprocate to her.

"Their memories are forever lost, Draco." her eyes met his and he felt the total despair resonate within his own body as they stared at each other. "The best healers in the world said that the damage was beyond repairable." A dark chuckle left her body. "The brightest witch of her age did the spell to complete perfection – no coming back from that."

Draco could hardly breathe. This witch before him had sacrificed her own family for the safety of the wizarding world. Her parents no longer knew that they had a daughter, a daughter that had saved the world from complete darkness. And here she was suffering because of her sacrifice.

A darkness crawled up into him, but it didn't stop him from saying, "You were right to do that, Granger, otherwise they would have killed your parents. It was one of the orders given to us by the Dark Lord."

Hermione felt her stomach drop at his words but as she glanced at him again, his head was bent toward his chest and she felt a sense of relief. His shoulders were tense and his free hand was clenched. Appreciation warmed in her chest as she realized the effort he was making.. A part of her heart was lost at his words though because while she knew she had done the right thing, she would forever be without her parents now. "Thank you."

His head whipped up and the confusion was in his eyes as she looked up at him. "It helps knowing what I did was worth it. I'd rather they had a chance to live the rest of their lives than be dead because I couldn't handle them not knowing about me." Feeling brave, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his cheek. She pulled back though when she felt him tense. "Thank you, Draco."

Glancing at the boxed contraption in the corner he waved at it. "Are we going to watch one of those weird moving picture things?"

Hermione smiled and leaned back. "It's a movie, Draco. And I thought you didn't care for anything muggle."

"I'll give it another shot. But something not sad. Not today.." He stood up and took off his coat. Walking to the kitchen, he draped it across the back of one of her chairs that sat in her dining area around the kitchen island.. Shuffling around the counter, he cast a quick spell to heat the teapot resting over the stove. Grabbing two cups from her cabinet, he levitated them and the mug out to the living room setting them on the coffee table. Some sort of black and white picture was playing across the screen as he poured a mug for the witch and himself. She murmured a thank you as she sipped at the warm liquid.

Taking his own seat he leaned back and glanced over at her. Her eyes were rimmed red but they were entranced on the screen. She had her knees up to her chest with her arms around them holding her mug with both her hands. He wasn't sure he could sit like that for any length of time but she seemed perfectly content sitting that way while watching the screen before them. Her eyes never left the screen as she sipped from the mug every now and then. His heart would stop when he saw a smile slip past and even a chuckle at something that had happened. Not that he was paying any attention to the screen. He was entranced by the witch before him.

He didn't know when it happened but he didn't feel the hesitation at being in her company. Or the second guessing of their past. It was starting to feel natural when he spent time with her. Getting to know her, he found that he rather liked her sharp tongue and her quick wit. There weren't many he could sit down with and have an intellectual conversation about potions before the other party would get bored and change the subject. True, she'd always been rather studious in school but actually sitting down with her to have these conversations was a whole different ball game. Contentment sat in his soul as he finally turned his head to look at the pictures moving across the screen.

* * *

By the time the movie had finished, Hermione had fallen asleep. Her head was pressed against the armchair of the couch and a blanket was tucked up under her chin as she curled inward toward the back of the couch.

The television was still on in the background as Draco took a quiet moment to observe her. He found himself doing that more often than not which didn't help his situation at all. Her hair, a mess in a messy bun on top of her head, was starting to come undone as she rolled back to face the couch. Her legs stretched out, grazing against his thigh, were covered by a thin blanket. He noticed that she seemed to constantly be wearing those weird teeth t shirts for her slumber.

Remembering her comment about her parents being teeth healers, he furrowed his brow as he leaned forward to view the picture. Realization hit when the word "Granger" was printed in the title. While he didn't understand why a ratty t-shirt was worth keeping, he knew that this specific shirt meant a lot to her.

He felt the Veela under his skin begging him to reach out and touch her. The tug was strong and he had to physically push himself back against the couch. More and more, the Veela pushed and pushed. Fighting him was weakening him. His strength was waning and he could feel it. Fear was starting to eat him alive.

One question was keeping him awake and locked in his room at night.

_What happens if the Veela breaks through?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did NOT forget about you guys!
> 
> Here's this weeks update :) I feel I should warn you guys that there will be NO updates the month of November as I will be participating in NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month). For those of you who do not know what this is - it's a month of dedicating yourself to writing on a daily basis to reach 50k words in ONE MONTH. The goal is to write a novel in that month! My goal is going to work on Before A Veela Breaks You. So, come December I'll have lots of goodies for you all!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

The fear strangled the breath in his lungs. He tried to keep away from her as he felt the Veela growing in strength inside him. But it was only six days. That was all he could stand before he reached out to her in desperation.

It took a couple of hours before he got a response. She declined a tea date as she was busy at the shop with the holidays coming up, but he was welcome to her flat at the end of her evening or tomorrow. That was all she could give right now.

But that meant waiting another six or so hours. Waiting was not his strong suit. Unfortunately, it never had been and this creature he was becoming only made it worse. Growling to himself, he forced himself out of his bed. His bones ached from the use and quickly dressed. Black and gray was all that seemed to be in his wardrobe anymore. Even the Slytherin Green was lacking these days. Everything was dull and dry anymore - except around her. He could see colors again. It infuriated him. It intrigued him.

A quick kiss to his mother on the cheek and he was making his way through the floo. He didn't notice his mother's lingering gaze or the lines starting to line around her lips and eyes. Worry deep in her bones as she watched him go. She knew that a mother's worrying never stopped but her heart ached as time started floating closer and closer to his birthday. Taking a breath, she reached for her tea and filed her worries away. For now.

Before he knew it, he was back in Diagon Alley. A notice-me-not charm placed over his person to keep wandering eyes away from him. Most people left him alone, but the looks were there. The looks of disgust. Of fear. Of hate. He could hardly stand to leave the manor anymore. The self loathing was building with time.

It wasn't long before he found himself at the front step of her bookstore again. He could feel her presence from where he stood and he took a moment to soothe the beast inside. With all the emotions churning within him, he was sure that he would scare her. The beast would crack through and then it would be over. He would sign away his life.

Taking the charm away from his person, he took a deep breath and moved inside. His eyes found her before he even stepped in the door. Her hair, surprisingly, was down and brushing across her back as she was helping a small person at one of the bookshelves. She was bent down speaking in hushed tones but he could hear her clearly.

Not wanting to bring attention to himself just yet, he moved toward the back and let the Veela feel content just to be in her presence. He found himself gazing around some of the books on the shelves. A few titles he recognized and some he didn't. Picking up an unfamiliar book on potion making, he walked his way to the back corner of the room where chairs were perched around for people's comfort and enjoyment.

The people coming and going were caught by the sound of the door and the smell, but he brushed it aside as he lost himself in the text of the potion book he had found. This writer, a potion master, had studied in several different countries and found ways to brew quicker using ingredients from other countries or different techniques. Before he knew it he had immersed himself so long that by the time he looked up, the sun was beginning to set. While the fall weather had the sun setting earlier and earlier, that meant he had been here for a couple of hours. As he stood to go purchase the book for his continued reading, he heard the door open and an annoyingly familiar smell hit him. Unsure as to where he recognized it, he paused to try and recall it.

Hermione glanced up from her book, her accounting book, where she was attempting to keep up with all the purchases from the day. The bell above her entrance rang bringing her attention to the newcomer. Just as she was about to greet the person, her eyes caught sight of the familiar red hair and her words were stuck on the tip of her tongue.

"Ginny. Ron." Taking a deep breath, she shut her book and placed it under the cupboard out of sight as she mentally prepared herself.

Draco felt his blood go cold when he heard her greeting. The smell - home cooked meals, musk, and dust - was the Weasleys. That was why he recognized it. A sense of possessiveness came roaring its ugly head up. The Veela was ready to charge and tear this redhaired git to pieces and while Draco felt the same, it didn't help that he knew that despite Granger's hesitation in speaking about her past with the second part of the trio, it would still hurt her all the same.

The Veela was angry. He'd felt the creature get mad, but this rage was unlike anything he had ever felt. It was clawing at its cage with renewed vigor. Trying and trying to get free, Draco felt its need. As he paused to listen to their conversation he started forward slowly.

"What are you two doing here?" Hermione asked as she started shuffling stuff on the register. She knew neither of them read. Ginny was with the Holyhead Harpies and Ron worked with his brother at the joke shop. Not that either of them had an interest in books even back in school. That had been what was so great about their friendship with Hermione. She helped with everything.

Ginny stepped forward with her smile showing her pearly white teeth. Too wide for her face, just like her brother, and the freckles splattered everywhere. Her eyes, a quieter blue than her brothers, spoke mischief.

"We came to invite you to dinner this evening! I'm making dinner over at Harry's and getting a few people together. Harry wanted me to make sure to invite you!" Her eyes slid to her brother before meeting Hermione's.

Hermione froze as she realized she was being cornered. Two against one. Ginny must have seen the hesitation because she quickly grabbed Hermione's wrist across the table.

"Please say you'll come. You've been so busy we hardly have seen you."

Terror hit her like a ton of breaks as she felt the littlest Weasley grip her wrist. A cold sludge slid down her spine as she felt the clammy hand wrapping around her. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but words wouldn't form as she looked down at the pale fingers curling around to the other side. Pale in comparison to her skin.

Fear. That was all she could feel. She fought against the scream rising in the back of her throat as she tugged against the grip. Ginny only tightened her hand. Her vision started to darken as the irrational side of her rose inside her but just as she was about to release it a cold voice cut through to bring her back to reality.

"Weaslette - let her go. I need to check out and you are in my way." Draco Malfoy cut in. He had watched the exchange and had been surprised to see the fear on Hermione's face when the female Weasley grabbed her. He was even more surprised to see that neither of the red haired Weasley siblings could see it right in front of their eyes.

Ginny whirled around to face him and he watched her eyes narrow on his presence.

"What are you even doing here, Malfoy?" Ron cut in as his face reddened with anger.

"Well you see. This is a bookstore and at bookstores are books and books are what people read. I'm not sure that you've ever picked one up but you may think about it as it may help those few brain cells." He walked around the two of them and placed the book down in front of Granger whose coloring was returning. Her eyes looked up into his and he watched the mirth twinkle there. He smirked back as she went about checking the book out for him.

"That'll be three sickles," she said as she wrapped the book up and placed it in a paper bag. As she handed him the bag, she found him watching her with a furrowed brow. Courage rose in her as she saw the concern behind his mercurial eyes. Taking his money, she looked up again and smiled at him. "You coming over for dinner tonight?"

The silence was deafening. If she hadn't been watching him, she probably would have laughed at the twin expressions across the Weasley's faces.

The concern was then replaced with a humorous smirk. "I'll meet you there." He turned brushing past the two and making his way out of the shop. All three eyes on him as he left. While Hermione watched him walk past the window, the other two whipped around to stare at her.

"What the hell was that?" Ron yells.

Hermione turns her dark stare on him. "Do not come into my store and yell, Ronald Billius Weasley. You will use a civil tone or you can walk your ass out the door." Her gaze swept to the startled expression on his sister. "I apologize, but I have dinner plans tonight. Unfortunately I won't be able to make it tonight. But let me know about maybe in the next few weeks and I'll make it work." She pulled out her wand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner date to get to so I'll have to ask you to leave."

* * *

Hermione stepped through her front door and couldn't stop the smile that spread over her face as she found Draco sitting at her kitchen island with the book he had purchased earlier. His eyes rose to meet hers and she saw the hesitation in them.

"Thank you for earlier."

"I saw you get scared. I didn't think Gryffindor's were scared of anything with that fearlessness in them and what not," he commented as he closed his book to turn toward her.

"Unfortunately, scars from the war - both physical and mental - have made me have some irrational fears of things. Like having my wrists grabbed for one. It's probably from being grabbed by snatchers or something, but it puts me in a state of pure fear. I get stuck in my head and I just can't… breathe, I can't see anything." She shuffled about the kitchen trying not to look at him. She didn't want to see the pity. Not from him.

"Granger," she paused as she grabbed the fridge door. "I-I have an irrational fear of snakes." She heard him stand up. "After watching Nagini eat people, I just can't stand the site of snakes. I will hear them hiss and my stomach drops into the balls of my feet."

She glanced over at him with wide eyes. His own face was shadowed with worry and she saw the hesitation was back. "You're messing with me."

"I wouldn't." He grabbed her hand. "I'm honest to a fault. Just know that… your fear. It's not irrational. We all have monsters we are fighting in the dark. You're not alone and I will never laugh at that fear when I know I have my own lingering." Dropping her hand, letting that single touch soothe the creature, he stepped back and took his seat back.

"I-," she paused. "Appreciate that more than you know." She turned back to the fridge. "Okay, I've got lasagna from last night. There's plenty for two, or I can make grilled cheese?" Glancing back, she saw the furrowed expression.

"You just grill the cheese? Eat cheese?"

She grinned and turned back to the fridge. Grabbing the block of cheese and butter, she turned back and started setting up. "No. It's a sandwich. So," she pulled out the bread. "You butter the bread and crisp it then in between the bread is cheese that melts to perfection and you have this warm piece of perfection to eat!"

The skepticism on his face only made her that much more determined as she went about preparing their meal. The two exchanged a few words but mostly, he watched her make this weird meal. He was dubious about this so-called "piece of perfection". The house elves never made this for him as a child but he found that he hadn't experienced a lot of things living under the Malfoy Manor that normal children experienced.

When she set the contraptions before him, he hesitated on how to eat it. Glancing over at her, he watched as she took it into her hands and took a bite out of it. A slow hum of content slipped out from her and he had to fight the smile trying to form. Turning back to his meal, he copied her movements and took a bite.

Heaven. Sweet delicious heaven.

Hermione ended up making two more for him before the night was through. Though he tried to hide his excitement, she watched the spark of life seep back into his eyes with every bite. She wanted to laugh at the childlike humor but knew that would not only stop him but embarrass him as well. By his third one though, she made him take it into the living room so she could work on her books.

He sat beside her eating in the quiet periodically watching her and the other part of the time taking a look around her place. The books, while he had seen them before, were seeping from every crevice. It seemed to have grown in the short time he had last been there.

"I apologize for the scene with Ginny and Ron," she murmured from her spot on the floor.

He looked over at her. "Nothing to apologize for. Glad to be of service."

She looked over at him with her thumb nail running back and forth across her lip before she dropped her hand to her lap. "Service? Draco, I wasn't just inviting you to dinner because of them and if you felt used, I'm so sorry. That was NOT my intention at all."

"What were your intentions then by publicly announcing us having dinner to your ex?" He hadn't meant to ask the question but it slipped out. The hurt and the jealousy slowly slipping through.

She sighed heavily. "Truthfully, my intention was to claim you -" His heart picked up with speed as his eyes napped to hers. "As my friend and that they could not continue their childhood grudge against you."

Disappointment hit and the Veela felt a little hurt, but Draco shoved it aside as he scoffed. "I'll never be able to put aside our 'childhood grudge'' as you call it, with them. Weasley is scum - for more than one reason."

"To be honest, I can't blame you." She sighed heavily and leaned back against the couch. "Ron - well he's… Ron."

"I am surprised to hear you say that. I know he's your ex, but i assumed the three of you would have a lifelong bond."

"Oh we will, but Ron's stuck in the past and what people expect from him, expected from us." She turned to glance at him. "I changed after the war. I wasn't the same and I think that - that changed us. He wanted me to be someone I wasn't. He still hasn't accepted the ending of us."

"Hmm," he commented but left it at that. Hermione turns back to her books.

* * *

Before she knew it, Draco left and it was well past her bedtime. Sighing heavily, she picked up her books and dragged them to her bedroom with her. Crookshanks was already curled in the center of the bed and made Hermione wiggle her way around him to get comfortable. Picking up one of the texts on Veela Lore that now sat on her bedside, she turned to the page she left off on and started reading again before her eyes could no longer stay open.

_Veelas are very protective of their mates… they have to constantly be touching them until the bond is sealed… they can sense their mate…. Sense when they are in danger…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No real note today. Enjoy! Thank you for the love and reviews! It helps encourage me to keep writing :)


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Fifteen -**

* * *

Hermione rolled over as Crookshanks pawed at her face. Glancing at the window, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Grumbling, she pushed herself out of bed. The book she was reading dropped to the floor as she rose. She bent over and grabbed it, looking at the last text she had read in her half asleep state.

 _Mates… Protective…. Constant touch… bond…. Sense of smell…. Sense danger…_.

Hermione felt a pit start to rise in her stomach as she saw the pieces of the puzzle start to blend together. Draco Malfoy was a Veela. Yes he needed help, but he had the book. Why would he still need her help, unless….

"Oh dear Merlin," her hand flew to her mouth as she felt the reality of the situation come screaming to the forefront of her mind. Their tea/coffee dates and he was constantly sitting with himself between her and everyone else. He had willingly touched her numerous times. When she thought he would finally be rid of her, he kept coming around. "Fuck." He didn't like others being around them and had a quick temper when someone brushed past them.

Quickly she kept reading on and suddenly the pit in her stomach grew in size as the text before her read, If the bond is not sealed by their next birthday from awakening, they will die. The longer the bond is not sealed the more the Veela suffers. Loss of appetite. Loss of the senses. Other symptoms may include - lack of color, weight loss, moments of insanity - especially toward the end.

Anger seeped into her veins the more she read. "Goddammit, Draco Malfoy." She was literally killing him. He was suffering because he was too prideful to tell her, and she was too oblivious to notice it before now. Shoving a pair of jeans on, she let the anger consume her as her vision clouded. This was his fault. She wasn't sure how, but she was sure of that fact no matter how irrational it was. Her hands were shaking with her rage as she attempted to get dressed.

Struggling to pull a thin sweatshirt over the top of her, she forced herself to keep moving before the rage consumed her. One step at a time, she reminded herself. She flooed over to the store and left a regrettable note stating that the store would not be open for the day on the front door and she apologized profusely. Then from the floo inside, she grabbed the floor powder and threw it to the ground with a fierce look of determination, "Malfoy Manor."

It would be hard to mistake the Manor as anything other than a Manor. With such steep ceilings, dark corners and the regal air the moment one stepped into its walls. As she stepped out of the fireplace into a large, dark sitting area she was surprised to see a house elf come walking up to her.

"How may I help you miss?" it greeted from the door.

"I'm looking for Draco - um, Mr. Malfoy?" It waved it's knotted hand and had her follow it down the hallways. Anxiety slowly gripped at her in fear they would come to that room, but luckily they bypassed it on the way to Draco's room. The house elf, a quiet sort so very different from Dobby, led her up a set of stairs before pointing to a dark, heavy wooden door. Waiting, she watched the house elf disappear back down the hall before she knocked her knuckles against the wood a couple of times.

A muffled, "Come in" and her rage was at the forefront of her mind. Pushing the monstrosity open, she stepped in and let the door slam open.

"What the -" Draco's head snapped up only to freeze when he caught sight of her.

His blood ran cold when he saw the witch standing in the open doorway of the study. He had been so immersed in his new potion study that he hadn't felt her presence and now with her feet in front of him he could feel the rage billowing off her. Her hair was in a messy bun, again, atop her head but pieces were spilling out around her face and he set the set line of her lips. Fear started in him with a slow trickle down his spine.

"Granger - what are you-" he stopped as she stepped forward.

"Did you forget to tell me something, Malfoy?" He stepped back from the venom dripping from her voice. "Like a little secret that involves me maybe?"

The Veela under his skin hesitated at her tone. It quieted immediately as it noticed the rage simmering under her eyes. Thanks, Draco thought as he forced his back straight to stare across the room at her. "I have no idea what you are talking about." Coward.

Hermione scoffed as she shoved the door shut and pulled out her wand. The fear increased ten fold before she set about the room a silencing spell. "Then maybe you can explain why you look so sick? How you've been dropping weight? How you're sleeping all the time and yet not getting any true sleep?"

"How would you even know that?" He asked as he crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. Hoping it put on a calm front, but really just attempting to hide his trembling hands.

"Because I pay attention, Malfoy!"

"I don't understand why you're yelling at me," he hissed.

"Goddammit Draco! Why are you killing yourself? You've known I was your mate this whole time and you haven't said a bloody word! Despite knowing that the bond is going to slowly kill you by your birthday! Which is what, seven, eight months away?"

"You know my birthday?"

"MALFOY!" she screamed.

He felt himself try to back up at her voice. "What?! You want me to tell you that you literally hold my life in your hands? That if you don't accept me that I'll wither away into nothingness? That a bloody fricken mudblood holds my life - MY ENTIRE LIFE in their control?" He spun around with his hands gripping the desk. He felt it splinter under his fingers. "Should I thank the fates that they paired me with someone so smart? Or should I curse them because of your dirty blood? You think any of this is easy for me! I never asked for this! I didn't ask for YOU!" The regret hit the moment he saw the hurt flash across her face. "Shit, Granger - I-"

The world narrowed in on the pained expression cross her face and he felt the air leave his lungs as he felt his world caving in around him. He could literally feel the ache of her pain in his chest causing him to lose his breath. He had to grab the desk to steady himself as he tried to get bearings before looking up at her.

She was gone before he could say another word. The Veela in him roared with anger as they watched the witch disappear. The hurt on her face permanently ingrained in his brain. The rage built and built as he tried to take calming breaths, but suddenly he grabbed the desk and threw it through the window. An ache rose up and consumed him as he made his way to his room. Holding on to the little control that he had, he cast the necessary spells before unleashing the Veela upon his room.

* * *

Hermione somehow managed to find her way to the floor where she then disappeared through. She couldn't remember calling out 12 Grimmauld Place but suddenly she was tumbling onto Harry's living room coughing at the dust.

"Hermione!" She looked up to see her best friend racing toward her. He quickly grabbed her hands and picked her up. "What are you doing - Hermione, you're crying!"

"Thank you for your astute observation," she huffed as she used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe at the tears under her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have owled or something before just showing up," she whispered as she walked into his welcoming arms.

"No, that's what I'm here for." He murmured as he tightened his grip around her. The best thing about Harry - besides his love for those he cared about - was his hugs. The I'll-keep-holding-you-until-you're-ready type of hug.

It took a little bit, but eventually she calmed down enough that she let him go. He took her hand and led her down the hallway, voices yelling at her from behind muffled portraits, but he shushed them. Once they got to the kitchen, he sat her at the table and went to the stove and started working on the tea. Like her, he did things the muggle way and that made her appreciate him just a little more. She wasn't always the odd ball out.

Once he had the tea steeped, he set the cups in front of himself and her and took a seat. "Alright , now that you're not mumbling," he grinned at her. "Why don't you tell me what is going on?"

"Is it possible to be hurt by someone you used to hate and didn't usually give a second thought to?"

He paused as he used his spoon to spin the warm liquid around. "Yes. Words hurt no matter who they come from."

She nodded. She couldn't agree more. How was it possible that Harry just knew how to put words to her feelings when she herself couldn't understand why she was so hurt by Malfoy's curses. Taking a breath, she pulled on the edge of her sleeve. "If I tell you this, Harry, you have to swear not to breathe a word of this outside of this room. This has to remain between you and me." She pulled again on her sleeve. "It involves a secret that I'm not sure this person is ready to reveal."

Harry nodded and used a finger to make an X over his heart. "Not a word."

"Draco Malfoy came to the bookstore not too long ago. He needed help in finding some old folklore texts… on Veela's." She watched as Harry's brow lowered under the rim of his glasses. :At first he made it seem like it was just curiosity but he wouldn't let up. I ended up having Luna get me in contact with one of her friends to get a text for him. Then I got curious too because all i know of Veela is from Fleur and their whole history is interesting! So we started talking about some of this stuff but I started noticing things - he was losing weight but still gaining muscle at weird rates, he could hear a whisper from across the room… Well, he's a Veela, Harry."

The shock on his face caused Hermione to giggle. "Damn. That explains his white hair…"

"Oh Harry." He glanced over at the sorrow in her voice. "Veelas have mates. Sometimes they find their mates, sometimes they don't. Draco found his mate."

"I'm confused, Hermione… Are you sad that he found his mate because you have feelings for him?"

New tears formed in her eyes as she shook her head. "Yes and no… Oh, it's all just so confusing. I'm not sure what to do! We were enemies! Like go for the blood enemies, Harry! I'm the Mudblood - he's the precious pureblood!"

"I don't understand, 'Mione. Do you… like him?" She heard the hesitation in his voice and felt her heart twinge.

"Harry - it's… it's so much more than that." She pulled her hands into her lap and looked down as she whispered, "Harry, I'm his mate."

"No bloody way." Harry stood suddenly, knocking his chair back in his heist. "I'll kill him. I'll make sure he can't get to you. I'll get the Auror-"

"Harry! Sit down!" She yelled as he tried to make his exit to who knows where. He reluctantly turned back around and took a seat once more after picking the chair up off the ground from where it had toppled over in his hurry to wherever he had planned to go. "I'm… I'm not sure how I feel about being his mate. But - god this is harder than it should be." Harry reached across and took her hand. Running his thumb across the back of her hand brought a moment of grounding for her to catch her breath. "He didn't tell me… I found it out," she saw the cocked eyebrow but chose to ignore it. "I confronted him and he… Merlin, he was yelling and angry. He said some hurtful things. Calling me a mudblood and yelling at me how he didn't ask for this… he doesn't want me and yet the fates put us together."

"Hermione," she looked up into his bright eyes. "Do you have feelings for Draco Malfoy?"

"I didn't - I don't…. Bloody hell," she felt the tears starting to form again. "I think I might." If she wasn't crying, she would have laughed when she saw the color drain from her best friends face.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't have much of a choice, Harry… If we don't accept the mate bond… he dies."

"And...?"

"You don't mean that." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms watching Harry squirm under her gaze. "I can't have Draco Malfoy's death on my conscience. I would probably be haunted the rest of my life by his ghost anyway," she teased. Harry smiled at that before he got up and pulled her into another hug.

"Whatever you decide, I'm here." He pulled back with a stern expression on his face. "But if he harms one hair on your head, he won't have to worry about withering away! I'll kill him myself. Slowly. Painfully."

Laughing, she leaned forward and pulled him back into a hug. "I love you, Harry."

"Love you, too, 'Mione."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've joined DFW's Double Trope Fest... I'm gonna be writing in two stories for a hot minute. Be on the lookout for a short fic next month!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Sixteen -**

* * *

Narcissa heard the commotion upstairs from her seat in the sitting room where she was taking her afternoon tea. Loud noises were echoing down the halls so loud that she felt the house quiver in its wake. She watched some of the house elves race down the hall away with looks of terror on their faces. Furrowing her brow over her tea cup, she glanced toward the hall where all the commotion was coming from. Draco's wing of the house.

As gently as possible, she set the teacup in its saucer before rising from her seat. Snapping her fingers, a small house elf appeared. "Mistress?"

"Nyki, what's going on up there? Is Draco alright?"

Nyki quivered as she glanced at the floor, her hands clenched together in front of her. "Master Draco is angry. A lady came to visit - and we wasn't listening in - but yelling happened then the master raced into his room and started throwing things and he's very angry."

"Thank you, Nyki. You're dismissed. Let the others know to stay clear of Master Draco's wing of the Manor." Narcissa headed toward the stairs feeling the energy growing with each step.

The closer she got, the louder the noises became to the point that she felt like the house was going to cave in. The amount of energy rising and coming from his bedroom was tangible. Darkness encased the area around her. Slowly fear started to rise up in her, but she suppressed it down as she knocked on her son's door. Magic rippled but no answer came. No pause in the commotion. All the lights extinguished in this part of the Manor. No matter how many times she tried to spell them to work, they would just pitter out within seconds.

The spellwork around the door was loose so it didn't take her long to make her way into the darkness. The sight before her made her gasp - a hand flew to her throat as she took in the scene. The room was in shambles. The bed broken to pieces; clothing torn apart to shreds; windows shattered, his desk splitters of what it used to be.

"Draco - darling, what's happ-" before she could finish her question, he spun around shrieking at her. She caught a glimpse of the madness in his eyes - the darkness rising. His skin was taut and paler than she had ever seen. His hair was disturbed and pointing in all the directions and even his clothes showed signs of him attacking it. What startled her most was the presence of wings sprouting from his back. Not angel wings - things with feathers, soft and angelic, but dark, leathering wings that spread around him. Almost as if to encase him from the world and keep him protected. But as he stepped forward, they flew behind him. As cliche as it sounded, it was like a waking Demon stood in the place where she was most certain her son stood.

"Get out." The voice was not her son's. It was so unearthly that the fear that she had tried to keep low came screaming to the forefront. Before she could gather her thoughts, she felt the magic push her from the room.

"Draco!" She raced back to the slamming doors but as soon as they were shut she felt the magic lock into place. Stronger than ever. No sound was leaving that room any longer and no matter what spell she attempted, nothing would break through. Beating her fists against the door, she shouted for him to open the door. To let her in but it fell upon deaf ears. Sliding down to her knees, tears formed in her eyes.

"Oh darling, what has become of you?" she whispered helplessly from her place on the ground

* * *

Days pass and nothing. Every couple hours she would take food to him but it would remain untouched outside his door when she would return for the tray. Every attempt to get in was thwarted by his magic. Anytime she spoke to him she'd only hear silence answering her back. Not even a rustle of movement could be heard from the otherside. Even the elves were unable to bypass his magic - or at least the ones brave enough to try. Most of them kept a wide berth from Draco's wing of the Manor. Fear encased them that Narcissa found herself making calming draughts quite frequently.

A fear of losing her son was rising and with new found determination, she grabbed her coat and decided to make one last dire attempt to save her only child. No matter the retaliation that may come back for her when he discovered what she attempted to do.

* * *

Narcissa pulled her cloak down from her head as she stepped inside the quaint bookstore. As she walked in, gazing at the impressive amount of literature scattered around the store, she slowly removed the gloves from her hands and deposited them inside her cloak's pockets. She watched as people moved about the shelves murmuring to themselves and while she heard her name mentioned, she brushed it aside as she found the one person she had come to see.

Hermione Granger.

Narcissa watched as the girl walked from the back - an office of some sort, she presumed. She seemed to be mumbling to herself as she walked with a large piece of text in her hand. Surprised that she hadn't run into the counter or a wall, Narcissa watched as the bright witch took a seat at the counter without even looking. The text slipped from her fingers and settled on the counter top. Tilting her head, she ran a hand down the pages and her lips moving - though no words seemed to be escaping.

Moving closer, Narcissa approached the counter letting the chatter around the store hide her movements. Taking a stance directly in front of the young woman, she took a moment to gaze and take her in. The last time she had seen this girl had been at the battle of Hogwarts but she didn't remember much of her details other than being skinny and bushy haired. Now, her hair was still bushy, but contained in a weird braid trailing down her back with a few strays sticking out, and she seemed to be filling out a bit. Still on the skinny side but not skin and bones.

"Excuse me," Narcissa spoke out as she wrapped a few knuckles across the top of the counter. Leaning forward, she glanced at the book and was pleasantly surprised to see it was written in Latin. She didn't know many young people exposing themselves to read and immerse themselves in a foreign language.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione jumped up and started rushing to clear the counter from her book but as her gaze met with Narcissa Malfoy she froze on the spot. The book hanging loosely in her hands. "Mrs. Malfoy."

"Miss Granger." Hermione tilted her head just a tic before turning to set the book down on a back counter. "I believe you and I have a common interest." Narcissa did not turn her gaze away from her back so she didn't miss the slight hesitation in the young witch's movements.

"I believe interest is the wrong word to be using in this context." Narcissa watched the Gryffindor bravery rise up as she turned to face her. Hermione's shoulders went back and her gaze held a flame as she looked over the counter to the woman in front of her.

Narcissa nodded slowly. "I apologize for my presumption." Pressing her lips together, she cast a wordless protection spell for privacy so the other patrons of the store would not hear the two of them. "Let me be frank with you, Miss Granger." An eyebrow rose over the whiskey eyes. "My son is dying. I can feel it. He doesn't have long if he does not bond with his mate."

"He has until his birthday, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I don't believe that to be true anymore." Glancing down at her hands that rested on the counter, she felt the tears forming in her eyes but she blinked them away before she looked back up at Hermione whose arms were crossed over her chest. "He's not eating. He won't leave his room. I haven't heard from him since - well since your visit."

"I cannot help that he was raised to hate mudbloods like myself. As fate would have it, he got stuck with the worst one of them and he refused to accept help from me. He doesn't want this to be nor does he care to be stuck with said mudblood for the rest of his life. He feels he is cursed because of this… bond.. There is nothing I can do at this point, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm sorry but I've tried to reason with him and he chose to scream and yell at how horrible it is that he's been fated to me - a mudblood.." Hermione dropped her arms, her sleeve revealing her scar to Mrs. Malfoy for just a glimpse. Reaching back behind her, she undid her braid, allowing the hair to tumble around her face and hide her from gazing eyes.

"Miss Granger - I have no words but to say I am truly sorry for the terrible words that have been spat at you your whole time at Hogwarts. Not only by fellow students, but my family as well. We were raised a certain way - and while it is coming to light just how wrong it has been - that is the only thing I can give you." Narcissa reached across the counter to stretch her arm toward the trembling girl. "I am so sorry that my own flesh and blood left that awful word sketched into such beautiful flesh. I hope one day that you and I can move past this and get to know one another and I can continue to apologize for the rest of my life - whether Draco and you…. Well, you know." Narcissa felt a pang in her chest at her words, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she would go forth with her words even if it killed her. "I've been so wrong about my whole life. One sister a murderer. One a traitor - or so I was told. All I can do is try to remedy my mistakes and I've started. First with my living sister, Andromeda - now with you."

Hermione glanced up with shock in her eyes as she moved forward. Resting her hand next to Narcissa's, she looked down at the openness lying before her. Taking her hand, she whispered, "I wish there was more I could do, Mrs. Malfoy but… I can't."  
"You tried. That means more than I could ever dream."

* * *

As soon as Mrs. Malfoy left, Hermione penned a letter to Harry asking him to visit her as soon as he was able. She had a little over an hour before the shop would be closing for the day, so she took back the text she had been reading before Mrs. Malfoy's arrival. She had been in the middle of the Veela history, but she went back to the section that skimmed over Veelas and their mates. Frustration rose in her every time she read the text before her. Nothing was telling her about a timeline - only that by the Veela's next birthday they did not bond with their mate, if their mate chose to dismiss them then there was no hope for the Veela. Nothing about if the Veela chose not to bond with their mate. Perhaps it had never happened before, she supposed but there was no way that this was the first time in history - not with blood feuds, prejudices over one's blood status.

Rubbing at her temples, she glanced up as the last patron left the shop. Taking her wand from her hair, she flicked it at the door and set about locking up the shop before flooing home.

By some stroke of luck, Harry was already situated at her kitchen counter, prepping her a plate of the take out he must have picked up on his way here. She appreciated that he always knew what she needed without having to be asked. She supposed it was from the bond of living together on the run - the bond of friendship that helped. Whoever put Harry in her life, she said a daily prayer to. Being an only child, it had been hard learning about the Wizarding world but with Harry, he was the brother she never had and together they learned their way through it. Somehow managing to come out on top despite the mad man that had been after them their whole school career.

"Oh Merlin, if you weren't like my brother - I'd be tempted to marry you right now, Harry," she huffed as she plopped herself down in a seat. She shrugged out of her jacket and leaned forward, stretching toward the food. Wiggling her fingers, she attempted to signal her hunger. Harry gave her a skeptical look but grinned as he shook his head.

"You'd hate how messy I am and be yelling at me all the time," he put down the take out and threw his arms in the air. Making his voice higher than normal, he started mimicking, "I took care of you in Hogwarts, Harry James Potter - I'm not taking care of you now! I am not your mother!"

Hermione winced. The voice was all wrong, but the sentiment was true. "Besides, you're my sister and no offense but you just don't do it for me. Now why are we tempted to marry me?"

"Because you feed me and I've had a bad day and you knew just what I needed…"

"What happened to make it a bad day? Had to be pretty bad if you're reaching out to me." He leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his sweatshirt. He must have gotten off early to have time to get food and change into muggle attire. Another thing she appreciated. Muggle clothes could be worn around him and he wouldn't think twice about it.

She folded her arms onto the counter top and laid her head down. Mumbling into her arms, she replied.

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry leaned forward trying to hear what she was mumbling.

"Mrs. Malfoy came to visit me." Silence. "Draco hasn't left his room." More silence. Furrowing her brow, she lifted her head up. Harry was staring with his mouth open and a furrowed brow himself. "Harry - she's worried about her son."

"Yes… but a MALFOY willingly came to see you."

"Draco has been seeing me for a while…"

Shaking his head, he went back to getting his plate filled up. "Mate. He has to."

"I know," she whispered as she picked at the specks of silver inlaid in the granite countertop. Harry moved around to sit next to her with two plates. He set one in front of her - filled with different vegetables and noodles and chicken. "Thank you, Harry."

"Mmhm." He picked up his fork and started eating. Silence encased the two of them as he waited. He could see her vacant gaze as she nibbled on her own dinner. Lost in thought.

It only took a few minutes before she spoke up again. "Harry - what if I'm the reason he dies? What if because of my blood, he dies? What if he really is cursed? I don't know what to do… I can't just let him die. But I don't… I really have no idea what to do."

"Did you try to talk to him, again?" He wondered.

"No… I didn't think he'd want to hear from me." She lowered her head as she set her fork down. "I didn't want to be called a mudblood again."

"Then," he started picking at his food as fear slid down his spine. "Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do. It's on him now, Hermione." He waited for the screech or the fist, but when it didn't come, he glanced over at his best friend. His heart broke as she saw the tears welling up in her eyes. "It's on him," he repeated as he reached for her. Hugging her tightly he let her unleash her tears into his sweatshirt. "It'll be okay, 'Mione. It'll be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well that's the last chapter until December everyone! I put a note a few chapters back, but as a reminder - I will not be updating the month of November as I will be participating in NanoWrimo (National Novel Writing Month). The goal is to write a complete novel (50,000 words) in the span of 30 days. I, however, will be writing in Before A Veela Breaks You - and yes, I'm sure there is plenty to write about because I was reviewing my plotline and I'm not even half way through it! AND that's not even until the end because I still don't know how this is going to end! *ducks from the items being thrown* I also signed up to join some Fests and I will be participating in those. Anyway, thank you all for sticking with me and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in December!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar. ( I am in search of both - I know someone mentioned they'd help but I lost who it was! So if anyone wants to help a girl out... :) 
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

A week later and Harry was fed up. He had stopped to see Hermione twice - once at work and once at her place and she was a mess. Anger was welling up but the one person he wanted to unleash that anger on was in hiding. The Daily Prophet had even commented on his lack of appearance in society for the past few weeks. Malfoy was seen at all notable functions. Sometimes with his mother, other times with a new witch of the hour though that had been noticeably lacking in the past few months. On the rare occasion, he was seen with other prior Slytherin students. Pansy Parkinson. Theo Nott. Blaise Zabini.

When a chance to visit the Manor arrived, he didn't second guess his luck. He took the assignment from a new auror and whisked it down to the bottom floor where all the floo chimneys were stationed. A small smile gracing his face as he murmured, "Malfoy Manor."

Harry arrived at the Manor via the floo. Shaking the dust from his persons, he looked up to see Mrs. Malfoy waiting in the front room. She quickly schooled her shocked expression as she took him in under her dark gaze from her seat on her sofa in the front room.

"Mr. Potter. I didn't expect you to be doing our… review," she commented as she stood from her seat. She headed toward the open doorway. "Normally a lowly, newbie auror is the one doing our inspection. Not someone of… your stature," she murmured.

Harry followed after her and smiled wanly. "I volunteered."

"Oh?" Narcissa stopped in the foyer to glance at him. Her eyes scanned his face but he kept himself still.

"Yes, to uh, thank you. Again." He glanced about as he shuffled his feet. "For lying to Voldemort." He glanced up, watching her flinch at the mention of his name. Obviously the Dark Lord's name still kept wraps around those who were under his watch. "I know that would have been hard for anyone and well - I thank you. If it weren't for you, we would be living in a very different world and my best friend would be dead. Muggle borns had no room in his vision."

"Your thanks is not necessary, Mr. Potter." Understanding dawned on her as she listened to the War Hero speak. "Mr. Potter, do you-" She was however cut off when a slow creek interrupted them.

She turned as she heard a door open from upstairs. Furrowing her brows, she turned toward the noise only to see a shadowy figure walking forward.. A gasp escaped her as she saw her son come walking down toward them from his hallway. His hair was in disarray, sticking every which way, and the dark circles under his eyes were worse than she had ever seen them. He was skin and bones and looked so very frail. The clothes covering his body were loose and seemed to just dangle over his form. It was sixth year all over again, but worse.

"Draco…"

"Potter," He cut off his mother. "What are you doing here?" He questioned as he moved closer to the two of them in the Foyer. "Don't tell me the ministry forced you to visit us. They didn't have a useless newbie to send to the slaughter? They send the war hero instead? What could the Great Potter have done to deserve this low task?"

Harry grinned as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets of his pants. Leaning back, he turned a smug smile on Malfoy. "I'll be honest with you Malfoy. I volunteered when I heard an inspection was due - though I know you don't still need one. The Aurors have been over this building several times. I mostly wanted to see how you were fairing in comparison."

Malfoy froze and turned his cold stare on him. "Fairing?"

Harry turned back toward the fireplace. "I'll report to the ministry that you don't need any more inspections. You should have them out of your hair now." He grabbed a handful of floo powder but before he could throw it into the fireplace, a hand pulled on him.

"Potter!" He turned to look at the shell of a former enemy and hesitated at the desperation in Malfoy's eyes. "Please… just tell me - is she alright?"

Harry wrenched his arm from Malfoy's grip. "What's it matter to you, Malfoy? She's just a mudblood, right?" He turned again but paused, throwing over his shoulder with gritted teeth, "Fix it Malfoy. Or you won't be able to die peacefully. I'll be back to kill you myself."

Draco watched as the flames from the floo died with Potter's exit. He watched but didn't quite see as he felt the cavern opening up in his chest. The ache was back and it was dragging him back down. When he had heard the floor announce an arrival, he had dragged himself closer to the door only to hear his mother say the name Potter. The chance to check on Hermione, even from Potter, helped him to raise himself out of that black hole just for a moment, but it was back. It was eating him up. He did this. He caused her pain.

No. She did this. She couldn't leave well enough alone. They were fine. She didn't have to be so bloody smart and figure it out. She didn't have to confront him. She didn't have to bring it to their attention to be addressed. They could have gone on as they were while he attempted to find a cure - a way out of it.

But deep down, he knew this was fate. There was nothing that could sever a mate bond. Hopelessness ate at him. Frustration tore at his thoughts until suddenly, he felt an overwhelming sense to sleep. Darkness overtook him before he could close his eyes.

* * *

Slowly, his eyes blinked open to see a building in front of him. A building he knew quite well now. It shook him to his core when his vision cleared and he could see it before him. He couldn't remember getting here. He didn't remember flying here, apparating here. The last thing he remembered was his bedroom after Potter had left. Darkness. Always the darkness. It had been his constant companion since the Veela had awakened, more so now that he was away from her. He knew he had done it to himself, but the two pieces of himself were at war with one another. The Veela crying out to be near her and the man torn between what he knew was no longer the truth and the way he had been raised.

The Veela was angry with him. Constantly reaching out to take hold and he fought it off as best he could, but fear slithered down his spine when he realized he was close to her for the first time in weeks and he had no recollection of how he had gotten here.

Could the Veela have taken over, he thought to himself as he made his way across the street - away from her building where he knew she was because he could feel the pull to her.

A park was just across the street thankfully, so he was able to find a spot under a tree to watch the glow from a window where he knew her apartment was located. He had seen that blasted cat in the window but he hadn't seen her.

He couldn't leave until he saw her. The Veela wouldn't let him. They needed to know that she was okay - in one piece. He pulled his sweater closer to himself and cast a quiet warming spell over himself. It was clearly getting colder and colder with each passing day, and for some reason he was perched across the street in the dead of the night with no coat like some sort of imbecile. He could go home. He could get inside where there was warmth and light, but the Veela was steadfast. He needed assurance. They both needed to see her.

An hour flew by and Draco could feel the exhaustion weighing in on him again. He was sleeping more than he was awake at this point. It had been hard on his body fighting the bond. Somehow, the Veela magic was sapping away his energy more and more with each passing day. If he was being honest with himself, at this rate, he would not make it to his birthday. He would be dead before he got to celebrate one last birthday with his mother.

A long sigh escaped him as he pushed off the tree that he had been leaning against. But as he pulled his wand from his trouser pocket, he felt the bond tug. Glancing at her window, he saw her. Her hair was hazardously strewn around her and she seemed to be in the same silly tooth shirt he had seen her wear previously. That orange fur ball was in her arms and while he may not have been close enough to see her, his Veela sight honed in on her face. Her eyelashes were wet and tears trailed paths down her cheeks. A catch in his heart, he felt that straight to his soul. Frustration wreaked havoc on his body as he felt the Veela wanting to go to her - to console her - but he gritted his teeth and balled his fists at his side.

He had done this to her, but the Veela didn't understand. She was everything he had despised growing up. Everything that had disproven anything he had been taught. She - _a Muggleborn_ \- had proved that magic was not something that flowed from every family line but could magically appear out of anyone. He struggled with this very thought time and time again. He was _nothing special_ , and that killed him just a little bit because he had been raised thinking that the Malfoy name was _stronger,_ more _important_ because of their magical history.

But then Hermione Granger happened. Everything was blown out of the water by just her mere presence. Her existence. She was powerful. She was intelligent. She was kind.

And Draco Malfoy? He was _nothing_.

He apparated home as soon as she was out of sight and the lights had switched off. The Veela wreaked havoc on his mind when Draco had left her vicinity. The Manor was dark and quiet when he returned. Making his way up the stairs, he grabbed his little notebook from his room before walking down the hall to lock himself in his study.

There had to be something about Veela's who were not agreeable to a bond. It had to have happened in history at least once. There had to be a way to get out of this. Not just for his sake, but for hers. He knew she would agree to the bond if it meant saving his life - because she was selfless, and that killed him. He couldn't do that to her - no matter how much he desired to live. How much he wanted to take advantage. He couldn't do that. He had to do something for someone other than himself. For once. For _her_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking with me! I apologize for the lack of update last week when I promised I'd be back in December but alas this website was being stubborn... it gave me time to write the next chapter though!
> 
> I'll be quite frank with you. November sucked. I literally accomplished this chapter and NOTHING else. It was a very hard for me - both with writing and my personal life. December has definitely been better though :) I wrote a Fest piece, started ANOTHER WIP (shhhhhh) & working on this. I've written 25,000 words in the last two weeks. It's INSANE.
> 
> I'm so excited for the next chapter for you guys. Like I'm literally shaking in my socks because I wrote it yesterday and it's just... something I haven't seen in the Veela Universe yet (doesn't mean it's not out there... I just haven't seen it!). SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE LIKING THIS STORY!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Eighteen**

Hermione had had enough. Her resolve had broken the following weekend when she had seen Harry and he had told her about his little visit to Malfoy Manor. About how Draco had looked as if he was becoming more and more of a shell, much like he had in sixth year. Anger had surged through her at his pure stubborn pride, but later that night determination had set in.

She was not going to let him die for pride. For stubborn idiocy. They would find a way to get past this. Even if she had to make him accept her, _temporarily_.

She was not called the Brightest Witch of her age for nothing. She would find a way out of this Veela bond for him, so he could live and not be stuck with her. His death would not be on her conscience.

* * *

Fear had eaten at her all night, so sleep had been minimal. The moment the first band of light had peaked in through her window, she had shoved herself out of bed and stripped out of her sleep clothes. A pair of jeans, muggle attire obviously, and a thin sweatshirt was quickly shoved on before throwing her hair up into a messy bun - only messy because she couldn't' contain it well enough for it to look sophisticated, or well kept. There was no way she'd ever be able to contain the mess that was her hair. It was something she had resigned herself to not long ago.

Rubbing her hands down her sides, she tried to chase away the jitters that were taking over her hands. A deep breath in through her nose, then out through her mouth and she forced herself to the Floo. Once glance over at Crookshanks, she gave him a half smile and a little finger wave before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and calling out, "Malfoy Manor."

A cough from inhaling the soot, she stepped out and shook herself a bit to chase off the dizziness. A quick spell to clear the dust from her persons she forced herself to take a moment to get her bearings. She knew where she was, she knew which way to go, but she hesitated. She was intruding… One step toward the door and a house elf appeared.

"Hello, Miss." The small house elf was shorter than most house elves. Eyes were wide and sparkled with wonder, but a hint of a smile peeked out from under her long crooked nose. "The Mistress is waiting." She started walking out the door but glanced back to make sure Hermione was following.

Hermione hesitated for just a moment as she glanced around, but the determination from the previous night held her steadfast. She was on a mission. Another breath in through her nose and out through her mouth and she was following the little thing.

They made their way down the hall, past the staircase where her gaze lingered, and into a large oversized room. It was pretty sparse in the way of furniture except for a small loveseat and a pair of armchairs, but behind them near the large open window was a large piano. Dark, hard wood and beautiful with the light from the window casting a soft light. She found Mrs. Malfoy sitting in the seat before it. Her hands pressed into her lap and her gaze staring down at the keys. Her lips turned down and her eyes vacant, Hermione realized she was lost in thought and hadn't even noticed her arrival.

As Hermione turned to look for the small house elf, she found her side empty. The small house elf disappeared without a sound. Gazing back at Mrs. Malfoy she saw the tenseness taking over her shoulders even as she tried to draw in calming breaths. A deep breath in before a shaking breath loosened her lips.

Hermione cleared her throat as she shoved her hands into the back pocket of her jeans. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mrs. -"

Mrs. Malfoy spun around to stare wide eyed at the girl across her sitting room. "Hermione!" She rose from her seat, hurried but still with the grace of a queen, and came across the room to pull Hermione into a tight hug. In another breath, she heard the quiet sob escape the older woman. "I'm so glad you are here," she whispered with one last squeeze. Taking a step back, she pulled a tissue from her dress pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, Hermione. He doesn't have long."

Hermione gazed across at the woman. At such a close distance, she saw the dried tear tracks across her cheek bones. The lack of makeup around the woman's eyes was another clear indicator of just the anguish Mrs. Malfoy was experiencing over her son. Hermione pulled her hands out of her back pockets and nodded.

"I didn't mean to intrude -" she started but Mrs. Malfoy shook her head vigorously.

"No, don't apologize. I just hope you'll be able to get him to come out of his room. We tried to break in to get him to eat but his magic is too strong. The house elves can't even get in." Hermione glanced back at the door. Her gaze hardened with each passing breath.

"I'll figure it out." She turned back and took one of Mrs. Malfoy's hands into her own. A gentle squeeze, and she whispered with a soft smile at the mother before her. "He'll be okay. I promise." Then she dropped her hand and whisked her way out of the room. Her steps were determined, stead fast as she made her way toward Draco.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was going to be the death of her, she growled as she pushed through every damn spell and ward he had used to keep himself in his room and others out. A sweat had built up as she worked her way through the intricacies around the door. Finally, she felt the crack and spells start to shatter. One glance behind her, looking down the empty hall, she took a breath and then turned back. Pushing the doors open, she was instantly met with a dark growl. She pushed the door shut behind her and turned the lights on. Draco was by a window, leaning against the wall, staring directly at her.

Draco was about to unleash unholy terror on whoever intruded into his space. He needed the quiet. He needed for everyone to stay out so he could keep the beast contained in its prison. He needed to be alone.

He whirled around from the window as he felt the last of his defenses fall and in walked Hermione Granger. He felt the beast uncurl inside him and the air come whooshing into his lungs. Crossing his arms, he leaned into the wall to steady himself as he took her in before him.

Even with her hair, wild and coming undone from the mess atop her head, she looked ready for battle. Her eyes blazed as she stared at him and her stance was stubborn. Both feet dug into the ground and she put her hands on her hips as she kept his gaze.

"You, Draco Malfoy, are the most stubborn arse, I have ever met. And I'm in Gryffindor House," she snarked from her spot near the closed doors.

He pushed off the wall. Gritting his teeth, he took a few steps forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "What are you doing here?" Before he could stop her, she took three long steps, tough to do with her short stature and she was standing before him. Her eyes dropped down searching. He watched as her brow furrowed and her eyes lingered with questions.

Hermione wanted to kick him for his nonchalant attitude. Here he was withering away, and he was questioning why she was here? She stepped into his personal bubble but paused. She knew touch was necessary, but she hadn't thought too far ahead about how, or where. So she let her eyes linger on all the spaces left on his body showing skin. Unfortunately for her, he was in a long sleeve, so there wasn't any spot on his arms showing except for his hands.

Ah, she thought. Grabbing his hand, she forced her own to grasp his.

She felt him jolt beside her. "I'm here to keep you from dying," she responded to the quietness around them. Not daring to look up, she stared at his chest. "I know that touch helps." A deep breath in. "I know you don't want to be tied to a filthy little mudblood," she felt him flinch and try to take his hand away but she held on tighter. Again, not daring to look up. A stubborn set to her jaw, she continued to stare at the same spot on his chest. His black shirt, usually immaculate in appearance, was wrinkled and worn and had a single speck of dust. Her speck of dust. The one thing she was using to concentrate. "Neither of us asked for this. But I cannot sit here and do nothing while you are suffering. It's not something built in me. I physically can't do it." She backed up and took her wand from her pocket. Taking her hand from his, she used her wand to create a cut on her hand. "I cannot let you die," she whispered. "Because you refuse to move past your prejudices. Blood is blood, Draco." She lifted her hand for him to see but just as she looked up, she saw the horror written across his face. He scrambled back and Hermione hid her disappointment. He didn't want to be tainted. Despair overruled her emotions as she watched him race to his bedside table. She watched as his hand trembled as he searched for something. His wand. Probably to cleanse himself from her touch and her blood. Her mudblood.

When he came back with a wand in his hand, she stood still. Her hand down at her side, dripping her blood onto his expensive wood floors. If she was honest, she didn't feel it. She didn't even care what she had done, but as she watched this man come hurtling back at her to clear away her blood she could feel the ache in her chest grow.

* * *

When he had watched her cut her palm open, he had felt the Veela roar inside his head. Cold horror had washed over him as he heard her words and watching the pain flicker across her expression as she cut into her own skin. To show him, yes her blood was red - not muddy brown - like his, something snapped inside him.

He found his wand and raced back to her. Gently though, he picked up her hand and started the incantation to seal her wound and clear the blood. He heard her through the rage of the Veela inside him. So quiet at first that he strained to hear the words.

"Draco, my blood is red. Just like yours. Magic flows through my veins just like you." He gritted his teeth as he tried to concentrate - to finish the spell. To clear away the blood. "We aren't so different, you and me."

"Shut up." It came out as a thick whisper full of rage and desperation. His control was slipping. He could feel it. He had to do something. To change the subject. To get her to talk about something else. He was losing. He couldn't lose. He couldn't let go of his control. Not yet. Not now. His thoughts were jumbled and chaotic. He had to get her talking. To let her soothe the Veela inside him. The touch helped - his hand holding her hand. The warmth spread through his cold fingers through his hand and up his arm. Lost between the dark crevices of his mind, he asked desperately. "What are we going to do?" His eyes flickered up to see the stubborn set of her jaw as she stared at the wall behind them.

"We're going to keep in contact. I'm going to touch you or let you touch me, no matter how much you hate it," her eyes flickered over to him. "I'm going to keep you breathing, alive - until we find a way to break this. For you to live - without me."

There was no stopping it. He knew the moment that he lost that tight leash he was holding. The Veela was breaking down the barriers and its roar was so loud in his mind he thought his ear drums were going to burst. Rage and fear was filling him - his own or the Veela's he wasn't sure.

The darkness overtook him then as he tried reaching for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:*hides behind desk* Cliffhanger, what?
> 
> What do you guys think so far?
> 
> Any predictions?
> 
> Any complaints? (Other than Veela being Male... because let's be honest... that's just getting old)
> 
> Anyway guys, I hope you are enjoying! I've got a lot planned and I'm excited to see what you guys think! :) Happy Wednesday!


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Nineteen**

Hermione felt the grip on her hand tighten just before she was yanked forward. Shock riddled her body as she found herself pressed into Malfoy's arms. Fear began to tickle up her spine as she felt the walls around her pushing in. Her lungs were tightening as she tried to catch her breath and calm her heart rate. The fear started to lick up her spine as she tried to push herself out of his tightened limbs, but it vanished as a head of white flashed before her. She held her breath as he burrowed his head into the crook of her neck. His warm breath tickled against her neck allowing the fear to be chased away and confusion to rise up in its place. Furrowing her brow, she tried to look down but all she saw was a head of white pressing into her. His breath tickling with every breath he took. His arms, tighter and tighter, held her to the wall that was his body. She could feel his bones digging into her body, malnourished she was sure, as he held her.

Quietly, so quiet she almost didn't hear it, she heard his voice, but deeper and darker, whisper. "Stay." She tried to pull herself back but his arms were like a band around her waist holding her to him. He shook his head against her neck and took a deep breath. "Don't go. Don't," he paused before finally loosening his arms around her. "Leave."

She leaned back and looked up into his face. Startled, she stared into the silver, the molten metal, of his eyes where dark storm clouds usually resided. The dark clouds replaced, revealing something to her gaze as she watched this person in front of her look down at her with such open longing.

_The Veela._

Attempting to step back, she found that he would only loosen enough for her to lean back. His hand moved enough to hold her hips which made a little room for some space between the two of them. Leaning forward, he rubbed his face against the side of hers. Slight scruff bristling against her cheek. A happy hum leaked from between his lips and Hermione felt a blush race across her face at the intimacy of the moment. Gently, she placed her hands against his chest and pushed him further away. His hands dropped to his side and his gaze was pained as he looked at her. Watching her as she took a few steps back. Her breath came out in sharp pants as she tried to catch up with the thoughts that raced through her brain.

"Um," he tilted his head as he watched her. His eyes honed in on her every movement. Like a predator watching its prey, but not. More curious than anything else. "Veela," she tried but his brow furrows. "Draco?" The features soften as he leans forward grasping his hand in hers. Taking the tips of his fingers, he drew them up and down her hand. She couldn't help but watch in awe. The same body was before her, but the man was gone. The Veela was standing before her. Touching her. Willingly. Unafraid of being tainted.

"Stay," he grumbled again. His voice broken as if it had been dragged over gravel. Her head snapped up as she looked into his warm metal eyes. Pools of liquid steel staring at her. Her pulse jumped.

"I'm not going to leave you for long," His head began to shake wildly with each passing word. He grabbed her wrist, just encircling his fingers around her thin wrist loosely, not tightly but not letting go either. "But Draco, I have to research what's going on. We have to figure out what is happening. I promise that I'll be right -" As she tried to pull away, his grip tightened just a hair before she found herself wrapped in his arms once again. This time facing away from him but his head back into the crook of her neck. She felt him take another deep breath. Realization hit her then, he was smelling her. He was using her scent to calm himself.

She took a deep breath. A true breath to center the nerves that were starting to go haywire with his touch, with the band holding her in place. Pulling away, she let her hand slide to his arm and into his hand. "Draco," she felt his grip tighten on her fingers. "I'm not going to leave you, but I do need to go home where all my books are. Would you like to come with me?" He nodded. One jerk. He pulled on her hand as he headed through the doors. His grip did not loosen as he made his way down the stairs. His long stride made her almost run to keep up with him as they made their way toward the Floo. She pulled on his arm though, to stop him. He stopped to stare at her. His brows furrowing over those Veela eyes.

"Hold on. I need to see your mother," she soothed as she started in the opposite direction. She tried to drop her hand as she walked away but he shook his head wildly. "Okay then." _Touch_ was important. Filing that away, she pulled on his hand as she led him back down the hall toward the sitting room she had been in earlier.

* * *

Thankfully she managed to find the room without getting too lost. It helped having Draco, the Veela, whoever he was, pulling her in certain directions when she seemed to stray from her path. A gentle tug here, or a body blocking her way and gently leading her in another direction.

Upon entering, Mrs. Malfoy quickly stood with a happy smile crossing her features as she saw her son following behind Hermione. Her smile spread even wider when she caught sight of their hands intertwined. That glow faltered though when he dodged his mother's outstretched hands and went to stand behind Hermione with his hand resting against her back. His need for touch overpowered everything else in that moment including his love for his mother.

Clearing her throat, Hermione interrupted, "Mrs. Malfoy… It would seem that Draco isn't present at this particular moment." Her eyes dashed behind her and back to the Matriarch in front of her. A desperate plea in her gaze as she attempted to explain without using the words.

Mrs. Malfoy's brow seemed to furrow before her words finally registered causing her eyes to widen. They quickly went in search of the male in question. "You mean…"

"Yes." She could feel the Veela trying to pull her shirt up, to get to her skin but she reached behind her and shooed him away. "I'm going back home to research about why this might be happening or if it has ever happened before." She cleared her throat. "Um, the Veela - _Draco_ , is, unfortunately, not allowing me out of his sight so he will be coming with me tonight."

Mrs. Malfoy hesitated. "I can send a house elf to your place to bring your research here."

Hermione smiled gently even as she felt the fear starting to trickle in at the thought of being at the Manor, the nightmares coming to grab her and drag her back down. "I appreciate that but the wards around my house don't really allow for that and I'm… I don't think I'm ready to be here that long." Her gaze dropped to the ground for a moment as she winced before raising back to meet the Mistress of the house. "I also have a cat that I need to feed and he's not a fan of strangers."

"I understand." Mrs. Malfoy turned to look at her son. She took a step toward him before she caught herself. Her hand dropped back to her side and she forced a smile to her darkly painted lips. Brushing at her skirts, she started for the exit. "Please owl if you need anything, Hermione Granger." She stopped at the entrance. Glancing over her shoulder, she offered Hermione a gentle smile. "Thank you."

* * *

By some magic, she was able to get both herself and the Veela, _Draco_ , through the floo together though she'd never done it with two people before. It probably helped that he was constantly touching her so they were connected when she spoke out the address of her flat.

As they stepped from the fireplace, she let go of his hand to walk in the living room. Books were still scattered everywhere but she took a moment to watch his gaze wander about the room. But they didn't.

He watched her. His gaze never flickered from her even as she moved around the room picking up a few things.

"Um," she glanced back at the kitchen trying to mentally categorize what she had available for food. "Are you hungry?" He didn't answer. "Bloody wonderful," she murmured to herself.

She turned and made her way into the kitchen. Pulling out a pan, she set it on the stove and rotated one of the knobs on to start heating. As she turned to get into the refrigerator, she ran into a wall. A rather warm wall, but a wall that should not be there. Glancing up, she found the Veela looking at her once again. His hands on her elbows. A thumb rubbed back and forth, soothing her.

She let the quiet remain between them as she pulled away. She pointed to a chair and he took his seat obediently. That made her pause. Draco Malfoy would have told her off or done the opposite of what she requested out of sheer pride. Glancing over at him again, she found him watching her. His eyes still the melted metal versus the usual storm clouds started back at her. There was no scowl on his features, or a smirk that was ever present. This time it was just a gentle curiousness as he watched her. A sort of innocence, untainted by the world.

Turning away, she went to work on the meal she had planned instead of allowing herself to get lost in her own thoughts. There was work that needed to be done, she reminded herself. It didn't take long. Cheese, butter and bread. Simple. _Hopefully his refined taste palate doesn't mind a simpleton's meal_ , she thought to herself as she flipped the bread over, heating the middle which allowed for the cheese to melt.

It didn't take long before she set a plate in front of him with a grilled cheese on it. She took her own plate and walked around the counter to take a seat next to him. As soon as she was seated, he was pressing his leg into hers but didn't touch the meal before him.

She took the sandwich in between her fingers and took a bite all while feeling the burn of his gaze on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he seemed to follow her example. First bite and a grumble escaped him. Pausing, she glanced over to see a look of pure bliss pass his features as he continued to devour the sandwich.

Her brows rose high up her forehead when he polished it off and pushed the plate back at her. His eyes blinked once, twice at her, waiting. Putting her sandwich down, she pushed it toward him. He stared at it for the space for the span of a few seconds before pushing it back toward her with a frown pulling at his features.

"Eat that," she reprimanded as she stood from her chair. "You're the malnourished one. I'll start making more." She felt his eyes on her, again, as she moved back into the kitchen. Thankfully he stayed seated as he ate the last of her sandwich as she started making another three - to be on the safe side, she told herself.

She shouldn't have been surprised to see him eat another two and a half by the time they were done. She had managed to eat another half of one - only because his stare watched her until she ate enough. And she shouldn't have been surprised when she got up to go into another room to hear him racing after her. Part of her hesitated in letting him into her office, but knew there was no way around it.

When she had pushed open the door and went to take a seat at her desk with her tomes and books, he had made himself comfortable on a couch in the room where Crookshanks had currently been napping. It shocked her when Crooks sat up, eyeing the creature, and didn't race off. He wasn't overly fond of visitors and she wasn't sure how much fondness he may have for a Veela. She wasn't even sure if Veelas liked cats, or other animals, in general. Nothing in her research showed a dislike of other creatures - like Werewolves and cats didn't often mix well, and sometimes werewolves didn't care for male dogs. The more shocking piece of the puzzle was when she looked up in the middle of her research to see the cat purring, content, on his lap and the Veela petting the cat as he watched her work. His eyes never strayed. Every time she looked up, she'd be met with the same intense stare and goosebumps that would race down her spine. Fear or elation, she wasn't sure.

* * *

Frustration was mounting though as she combed through all the pages before her. Nothing about two separate entities being in one body - Man and Veela. Everything showed them being cohesive. She tugged her hair back from her face as she stared at the words before her. As another stray hair fell into her face, she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets in an attempt to chase off the blurred vision.

She paused when she felt a hand pulling her own away from her face. Blinking away the blurriness, she looked to see the concerned face of Draco Malfoy - _but the Veela_ , not Draco - staring at her from across the desk. How she hadn't heard him move was anyone's guess. He tugged on her hands but she shook her head.

"Fifteen more minutes," she replied even though she held in a wince when she noticed the time on the clock in her office. It was well past late and they had been in there for hours. How he wasn't asleep, she wouldn't know. She saw the argument rising but she shook her head again. "Fifteen minutes." He fell back, hesitation in his movements, before he went back to his spot on the couch with Crooks in his lap.

Pulling the current tome closer to her body, she tried to decipher the Latin as quickly as possible. There had to be answers somewhere. They just needed to find them. They were there, she just knew it. If only she could keep her eyes open. She didn't bother glancing up as she felt her eyes drifting lower and lower, _and lower._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Dual personalities - Veela and Draco? WHAT?! This was my big, grand idea that popped into my brain while writing - it wasn't originally planned.
> 
> I haven't seen it happen in a Veela fic yet- but that doesn't mean it's not out there! I just haven't seen it yet so I felt pretty good about it.
> 
> :)
> 
> Happy Christmas, lovely people.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Twenty**

Hermione blinked the sleep from her eyes. As her vision cleared she recognized her bedroom but confusion wrapped around her when she remembered falling asleep in the office. She attempted to sit up but found herself wrapped in another body. Frozen, she looked out the corner of her eye to see a half naked Draco Malfoy passed out on her bed with his arm around her waist. Eyes wide and worry trailing in, she grabbed his arm as gently as possible and slipped out from under him. Looking down at herself, she found that she was no longer in her sweatshirt or pants but thankfully everything else was still intact.

Not that she thought he tried anything, but her pride was taking a hit knowing that she had fallen asleep despite the Veela's insistence in going to bed. The Veela, not Draco. Rubbing her temples, she stood on her tiptoes as she searched for her pants. Thankfully they weren't far, folded on the chair pushed in the corner of her room. Grabbing them, she tiptoed her way out of the room and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could.

As she walked down the hallway, slipping her jeans on as she went, she tried to figure out the next step in handling the Veela. Draco had to be raging inside his body with no way out, she thought. Rubbing her temples again, she reached across her stove and started the tea pot. Tea was always a good idea.

It didn't take long for the tea pot to announce that it was done. She quickly grabbed a mug from the cupboard and went about making her tea. Adding a spoonful of honey to the chamomile tea, she took the mug into both of her hands and let the heat warm her fingers as she sipped from the heated liquid. Her thoughts started to take over as she leaned back against the counter and stared off into space.

Veela Mates. She was the mate of a Veela. A Veela who, currently, resided in the body of her former nemesis, someone who hated her blood status. Or used to… still did. He had called her a Mudblood. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the steam coming off of her cup. She had never heard of a Veela fighting against the other person in the body. Or even heard of them acting as two entities. Every Veela she had heard of, or the very few she knew of, were one cohesive creature. Everything about this situation was starting to give Hermione a headache. Not only did she need to figure out how to break the bond, now she had to figure out how to keep the Veela from taking over completely because who knows what sort of destruction would happen when it realized she was attempting to break the bond. Or did he already know? And if he knew, did he know that it was impossible and that was why he wasn't attempting to dissuade her?

She was thrown from her thoughts when a voice came raging from the hallway. "What in the bloody hell am I doing here?" Startled, she lost her grip on her cup and it splashed some of the tea over the rim.

"Fuck," she hissed as the heated liquid burned across her fingers. Quickly, she set the cup on the counter and used her wand to clean up the mess. As soon as she was done, she looked over at the bare chested man before her. Somehow, during the night, he had lost his shirt and while still thin, she could see where the muscles had come in from his transformation. And see the scars from when Harry had used that ungodly spell on him. Her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze continued up to his eyes and she was thankful to find storm clouds glaring back at her rather than molten metal.

_Draco._

Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she teetered back and forth on her toes as she leveled him with a gentle laugh. "You're at my place, Malfoy."

He grabbed the trim around the frame as he continued to stare her down. Unaware of his state of undress. "Why, Granger?" Her gaze stuck on his jaw as he gritted his teeth together.

"It would seem that the Veela didn't like your opinion and took over." She shrugged her shoulders, letting her gaze drop. "I didn't know what to do so I wanted to get back to my books, because I've never heard of that happening before…. But he, er you, wouldn't let me out of your - his sight."

She watched the blood drain from his face and the muscles in his arms tense as he seemed to grip the frame again.

"He - I didn't…"

She shook her head as she leaned back against the counter. Taking her hands from her pockets, she crossed them in front of herself. "I wouldn't have let you." She sent a half smile his way and watched him visibly relax. "You weren't quite yourself."

He let go of the doorframe and stepped into the small kitchen making the small space even smaller as he leaned on the opposite counter mimicking her stance. One hand rose and rubbed against his face as if he was chasing off the residual sleepiness that chased at him. "Fuck that's the best night of sleep I've had… in a really long time." His gaze flicks up to look at her. "I will admit I haven't been sleeping well the past few months. I sleep but… I'm not rested the next morning. But last night," he paused as he lowered his head to stare at the floor. "I feel as if I've actually rested."

Hermione nodded in understanding. She reached for her mug once more. "I can agree with that," he looked up at her. "I can see the color returning. You're not as gaunt?" She flinched at her words but shrugged good naturedly. He hummed but didn't respond more than that.

A moment of silence encased the two. Hermione sipping from her mug while he stood staring at the floor lost in his own thoughts. Hermione watched him, not bothering to hide her gaze since his gaze was elsewhere. She hadn't lied when she said she thought his color was returning, and she could see the dark circles under his eyes were gone. His coloring, while pale usually, lost the sickly look and seemed to be returning to its usual color

"Where do we go from here?" She stopped her gazing over his body and looked up into the dark clouds thundering in his stare.

Hermione tilted her head. She could hear the underlying worry in his voice, though he attempted to hide it behind his gruff demeanor. His demeanor did nothing though when he was standing half naked in her kitchen. Taking a sip of her drink, she hid the grin behind her mug as she pulled herself back together.

She set the cup down and leaned forward. "I'm going to leave my Floo open to you. That way, when things get rough you can show up and I'll know I have to touch you," she watched him freeze. "To mellow the Veela in you."

He turned his gaze down again. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "What about the Manor?"

Hermione hesitated. She knew it was a comfort thing for him, and she tried to wrestle with her own internal demons but she wasn't ready. Not yet. "If it's a dire need, I'll be there." She pushed off the counter. "But, Draco, I'm not ready to stay at the Manor."

"Fuck," He turned to face the counter. His fingers gripping the edge, turning his knuckles white. "I- I didn't… Fuck, I forgot for a moment." She reached out to brush her fingers against his shoulder. She felt his shaking as she brushed against his skin.

"No - don't apologize." She stepped up to his side letting her hand glide down to his hand. "I think I can do small bits at a time." Sucking in a breath, she steeled herself against what was about to come out. "I just still, sometimes, have nightmares and I'm not sure what might trigger them." His head popped up to look at her and in that moment she saw the complete sorrow and guilt swirling in that storm. "I don't want you to have to see what happens in one of the nightmares," she teased trying to lessen the mood but she knew she failed when his gaze narrowed.

"What happens, Hermione?" She shuddered at the guttural sound that was his voice. Tilting her head, she looked into his eyes and gave a half smile in answer. He knew. She knew he knew. "How can you stand to look at me?" He questioned in anger turning back to stare at the counter. "She tortured you in my house. She was my bloody aunt."

"She's not you. You're not her. She was a mad woman." Hermione leaned back against the counter next to him. "If I blamed you for the pain she caused, then you can blame me for the scars littered across your chest because Harry's my brother."

He froze as he glanced down at himself. A moment of silence. "Granger, where's my shirt?"

She shrugged. "Can't say that I know, actually? I think the Veela carried me to bed. I passed out at my desk - that was the last thing I remembered. I didn't remember even getting undressed." She hid her smile as she pushed off to head toward the bedroom.

* * *

An hour or so later, his shirt found on the same chair that her jeans had been on, they sat in the living room both reading from the books and tomes she had dragged out of her office. They both kept quiet as they read, only speaking out when they found something of interest in their readings. But neither of them could find anything on the separation between the man and the Veela.

Hermione pulled at her hair in frustration. "This is ridiculous." Pulling her hair back, she threw the mess back into a bun atop her head as she stuck her wand through it for safekeeping. Draco watched from over the edge of his book as he watched her frustration seep from her every movement, stilted. "I cannot stare at another line in Latin or I'm going to go quite mad." She forced the book from her lap into a heap on the floor, her gaze following it, but no guilt in her stare. Her gaze was locked on the book for a solid minute before sweeping over to him.

"We are going to have to come up with more than just access to my place." She pulled her knees under her. "I also work and - wait, do you have a job?"

"I don't currently work," he answered curtly letting his gaze drop down to the book in his lap but not actually reading the words laid before him.

"That makes sense," she hummed. "You don't need to, I suppose."

He tensed. "No. That's not it." She turned a questioning stare at him. Her brow raised high over her forehead. "I'm in the process of working on my mastery for Potions. And I've been avoiding society…"

"You want to be a Master in Potions?" He jerked a nod. "That's amazing, Draco! You were always really good at Potions. Are you planning to teach or …"  
"I'd like to open a Potions Shop eventually."

"You could do it, easily." She pulled her wrist out from under the sleeve of her shirt. Glancing down at the wrist watch, she cursed. "Bullocks, I have to head to work." Standing from the couch, she started down the hallway. "Feel free to stay and research if you'd like." He could hear her rustling around in her bedroom, his super hearing catching the catch in her breath as she took a deep breath. "I'm usually home around six. But again, the Floo is accessible to you so you can come and go as you please." He didn't respond as he listened to her moving around.

Then she was gone in a flurry of movement, only stopping for a moment to feed her furry little beasty and grabbing Draco in a hug. She didn't wait for a response as she spun around and went through Floo. He sat in awe as he still felt her warmth pressed against him.

"Fuck." He grumbled as he grabbed the book in his lap and went back into her office.


	21. Chapter Twenty - One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.
> 
> I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This is all just fun for me.

**Chapter Twenty - One**

Hermione trudged her way through the Floo feeling the day still pulling at her. She had dealt with too many screaming children, argumentative patrons, and misplaced orders. Her lack of sleep hadn't seemed to help either. The only plus side to her hectic day was that she was able to not let her mind wander to the past twenty four hours. Or the morning awkwardness in her kitchen. Twisting her head over one shoulder and back, trying to pop out some of the tension, she stepped into her mess of a living room and grumbled to herself. I really need to put some of these books away, she thought to herself.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled over her robes and placed them on the back of one of the chairs. Kicking her shoes off, she plopped down into said chair and stretched out, wiggling her toes against the rug on the floor. Deep breath, and she forced herself to sit back up. Furrowing her brow, she glanced around the room looking for her little ball of fluff. When she couldn't see him anywhere within her vision, she stood from her seat and walked down the hallway in search of him. As she walked down the hall, she came to a startled stop right before her office where she found an unfamiliar sight. Her office, usually shut to keep Crookshanks out, was wide open. From her spot in the door frame, she could see a sleeping body on the small couch with a familiar Crooks lying atop the torso.

She took a step inside and took in the sleeping features of one Draco Malfoy. Surprise lit her features as she realized he had remained at her place all day. A quick glance around the room showed he had used the time to research over the numerous notes she had lying about as well as different texts and tomes. Everything was moved from its original spot she noticed as her obsessive nature leaked through. Her quill - not normally used anymore as she preferred her self-inking pen from the muggle world- missing from it's ink well atop her desk.

Turning around, she looked back at the sleeping mad on her couch. Lying next to his hand, draped down the couch to the floor, was a notepad with familiar script written across its pages. The notepad was frayed from use leaving little particles below it on the rug. A quill lay beside it, her dark feathered quill, dried ink on the tip as it lay hazardously on her floor. As quietly as she could, she tiptoed her way into the room and picked up the quill, placing it back where it belonged. She picked up a few strangely placed items, different tomes and notebooks, and placed them back in their designated spot as well. One last glance at her cat, she noticed his eyes watching her half lidded from his perch atop Draco Malfoy. Traitor, she thought as she glared at him before spinning around to go make dinner.

* * *

It wasn't long before Hermione heard movement from the office. It didn't take much time either before Draco was walking his way through the hallway to sit at the counter. His eyes were bleary from sleep, but she recognized the storm in them rather than the molten metals. She was thankful that she wasn't being surprised by another visit from the creature living under the man's skin. It was quiet as she moved about the kitchen getting a few supplies ready for some cooking - nothing too crazy since it wasn't something she did often, but enough to sustain them. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved about the room. Maybe it was because of their bond or just because it was all in her head.

"I see you're still here," she murmured as she turned on her stove. While she prepped something for the oven, she also turned on one of the stove top so that she could make a pot of tea. Chamomile sounded good for the tension that was radiating through her body.

"I wanted to review some of your notes with some of my own," he remarked as he leaned forward. His head in his hands as his elbows rested on the table top. Pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, he grumbled again. "It helped being here too."

"Oh?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way or freak out," he replied as he slid his hands down to his chin. "This is hard enough for me to handle without your delicate sensibilities." Nodding gently, she didn't bother trying to argue with him. "Your scent is all around this apartment which helps soothe the Veela in me. He doesn't feel so... desperate."

Hermione turned back to the stove not allowing him to see her face. Shock, but wonder was also taking over. The researcher in her wanted to know more about this bond between the two of them. Not just because it personally affected her but because she also was in awe of the magic between two beings. Soulmates. Such an odd word with so much power behind it.

"I did see your notes about how smell and touch seemed to help a Veela," he remarked. "I also saw a strange name written in the beginning of your notes along with the tome you gave me..."

"Oh, yes. That's the contact that Luna Lovegood gave me in regards to Veelas. He was quite helpful in finding that book!" She placed the dish into the oven. "He offered his help and Luna gave him glowing recommendations. I don't suppose we could reach out to him again, do you?" Draco shrugged.

"He may have some of the answers we are seeking."

A moment passed as she leaned against the counter in front of him. Her hip digging into the wood. "I see that my cat has taken a liking to you."

"That mangy beast, you mean, would not leave me alone!" Draco's gaze flickered up to look at her. His brow furrowed in frustration. "How do you get anything done with that creature around?"

She pulled her hand up from her pocket to try to cover the laugh that was creeping her way up. Biting her bottom lip, she could only answer, "He doesn't usually like people. You should feel special. He hates Ron, and can only tolerate Harry."

He glanced down the hall as a thoughtful expression reached his facial features. "Mmm, maybe the beast isn't too bad after all if he hates Weaselbee." Hermione remained quiet. Memories flickering in the back of her mind.

His eyes wandered back over to her and watched as she seemed to lose herself in her own thoughts. "So, you're still friends with the dynamic duo?"

Hermione straightened and nodded with a soft smile. "Mostly. Harry's my brother in all but blood. I wouldn't be where I am now without him -"

"Don't you mean he wouldn't be alive now if it weren't for you and your know-it-all brain?"

She continued on without answering, "And Ron... we- just didn't work out and I hope one day to still have a friendship with him but he wants more than I can give him."

"He didn't seem too kind that night at the Gala." Draco was being delicate but the Veela in him was waking and sifting through that specific memory. It's anger rising with each passing breath making Draco clench his hands. Before she could notice though, he slipped them off the counter into his lap from her sight.

"War changed us all, Draco," she murmured. "For Ron, it was a chance to be more. He's the youngest boy of a large family. He's the best friend, the sidekick to the Golden Hero, and he's just wanted to be acknowledged. The world loved to report on the Golden Trio and he loved it - I… didn't like it. I didn't want to be in the limelight and he would just drag me back." She sucked in a breath. "He tried, but he didn't understand that I was trying to deal with some things and didn't need the extra attention on my every movement."

Draco gritted his teeth. "He's a fool." He watched the horror cross her features as memories flickered in her vision. He watched as her hand began to shake and the intake of a breath as she attempted to stay calm, but the Veela felt everything. That meant that Draco felt it too. "Granger, you cannot possibly blame yourself for trying to take care of yourself finally after taking care of them for years."

She cracked a smile as she moved closer to look at him. "I'd never thought I'd see the day that Draco Malfoy would be in my kitchen trying to reassure me, of all people." He didn't comment. "It's fine, Draco." She waved a hand around in the air. "I'm aware of my shortcomings and Ronald Weasley's as well. We would have never survived each other. One day, we can be friends but until he can get it through his thick head, I avoid him at all chances."

That appeased the Veela, a bit, but Draco wasn't swayed. He had seen the actions that had happened at the Gala. Even at the bookshop. The protective instincts rising just under the surface. He mentally pushed them back as Hermione turned to the stove again to pull out dinner.

Placing it on a heat pad, she put it in the center of the counter before turning around and grabbing the utensils and dishes. Walking back around to take a seat, she set a plate before him.

"It's lasagna. It's all I really had ready to go." She went back to the stove and pulled off the teapot. "Can I offer you something to drink? Water? Tea?"

"Tea with dinner?" His dubious expression spoke volumes. "Water will be just fine, please."

Hermione shrugged and got him a glass of water before making herself a cup of chamomile tea.

"It may be uncouth but it'll help me relax after the day from hell," she remarked as she flitted about the kitchen. He made a noncommittal noise but Hermione ignored him.

Dinner passed in peace, but Hermione appreciated the quiet after her day. It didn't bother her either when they sat in the quiet. A special appreciation flickered inside her chest when she realized Draco didn't seem bothered by it either. It wasn't often that a person found a like minded individual who could accept the silence as a companion rather than having to fill it with useless nonsense.

* * *

By the time they made it to the living room, she could see the nerves trying to lie dormant under his skin. His eyes flickered between her and the Floo, but he tried to hide it.

"Draco," she murmured as she took a seat on her couch. Pulling a gray blanket over her lap, she picked at the worn threads. "I mean it. If you find that you can't make it, that the Veela is taking over, no questions asked - you are welcome to show up at any hour of any day." Her gaze slowly traced up to meet his wicked eyes. The storms were dark and lurking in their depths. Emotions flickering back and forth as he blinked to chase them away.

"Thanks, Granger." She nodded, stilted. "Thank you for -" he paused as he looked around, not meeting her gaze. "Everything."

He was gone.

A long breath escaped her lungs and the pressure in the room was gone. Her nerves finally settled. So much had happened in the past few days that she felt as if she was stuck in a whirlwind. His departure gave her a moment to finally breathe and take in everything.

But in that same breath, everything came at her full force and she felt a sense of dread race over her heart. She was the mate of one Draco Malfoy - former nemesis and his life literally depended on her if she didn't figure out a way to break a bond.

Her heart tugged again. _Breaking a bond,_ she thought, _felt like betraying the fates_. Shaking her head, her curls floating around her face. "Doesn't matter… we can't have a death on our hands, yes?" She curled her fingers back into the loose knit blanket. "I'll deal with the fates at another time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize, readers. I did not post last week. I had a teething 18 month old with a fever. It wasn't pretty and we weren't sleeping and let's just say the household was a bit of a war zone complete with medicine, drool, canines, molars and lots of dog hair.
> 
> Now... to make matters a bit worse. I am not promising to stick to a schedule for the next month. I have two projects I need to work on that need to get done ASAP. So, until March 1st I will be only posting sporadically. There will not be a timeline or expectation, but I don't want you guys to feel neglected. :)


End file.
